text_original: Sirrah! my corporation is made up of good, wholesome, English fat; but you are puffed up with the wind of vanity and delusion; and when it begins to gripe your entrails, you pretend to have a motion, and then get up and preach nonsense. Yet you'll take it upon you to call your betters children.
text_transcription: SORRAH MY CORPORATION IS MADE UP OF GOOD WHOLESOME ENGLISH FAT BUT YOU ARE PUFFED UP WITH THE WIND OF VANITY AND DELUSION AND WHEN IT BEGINS TO GRIPE YOUR ENTRAILS YOU PRETEND TO HAVE A MOTION AND THEN GET UP AND PREACH NONSENSE YET YOU'LL TAKE IT UPON YOU TO CALL YOUR BETTERST CHILDREN
phonemes: sˈɜːɹə! maɪ kˌɔːɹpɚɹˈeɪʃən ɪz mˌeɪd ˌʌp ʌv ɡˈʊd, hˈoʊlsʌm, ˈɪŋɡlɪʃ fˈæt; bˌʌt juː ɑːɹ pˈʌft ˌʌp wɪððə wˈɪnd ʌv vˈænᵻɾi ænd dᵻlˈuːʒən; ænd wɛn ɪt bɪɡˈɪnz tə ɡɹˈaɪp jʊɹ ˈɛntɹeɪlz, juː pɹɪtˈɛnd tə hæv ɐ mˈoʊʃən, ænd ðˈɛn ɡɛt ˌʌp ænd pɹˈiːtʃ nˈɑːnsəns. jˈɛt juːl tˈeɪk ɪɾ əpˌɑːn juː tə kˈɔːl jʊɹ bˈɛɾɚz tʃˈɪldɹən.