text_original: Then marching off with swiftest race To write dispatches for his grace, The revel master left the room, And us condemn'd to fatal doom. Now, fair ones, if e'er I found grace, Or if my jokes did ever please, Use all your interest with your sec,[2] (They say he's at the ladies' beck,) And though he thinks as much of gold As ever Midas[3] did of old: Your charms I'm sure can never fail, Your eyes must influence, must prevail; At your command he'll set us free, Let us to you owe liberty.
text_transcription: THEN MARCHING OFF WITH SWIFTEST RACE TO WRITE DISPATCHES FOR HIS GRACE THE REVEL MASTER LEFT THE ROOM AND US CONDEMNED TO FATAL DOOM NOW FAIR ONES IF ERE I FOUND GRACE OR IF MY JOKES DID EVER PLEASE USE ALL YOUR INTEREST WITH YOUR SECK THEY SAY HE'S AT THE LADY'S BECK AND THOUGH HE THINKS AS MUCH OF GOLD AS EVER MIDAS DID OF OLD YOUR CHARMS I'M SURE CAN NEVER FAIL YOUR EYES MUST INFLUENCE MUST PREVAIL AT YOUR COMMAND HE'LL SET US FREE LET US TO YOU O LIBERTY
phonemes: ðˈɛn mˈɑːɹtʃɪŋ ˈɔf wɪð swˈɪftɪst ɹˈeɪs tə ɹˈaɪt dɪspˈætʃᵻz fɔːɹ hɪz ɡɹˈeɪs, ðə ɹˈɛvəl mˈæstɚ lˈɛft ðə ɹˈuːm, ænd ˌʌs kəndˈɛmd tə fˈeɪɾəl dˈuːm. nˈaʊ, fˈɛɹ wˌʌnz, ɪf ˈɛɹ aɪ fˈaʊnd ɡɹˈeɪs, ɔːɹ ɪf maɪ dʒˈoʊks dˈɪd ˈɛvɚ plˈiːz, jˈuːs ˈɔːl jʊɹ ˈɪntɹɛst wɪð jʊɹ sˈɛk,[tˈuː] (ðeɪ sˈeɪ hiːz æt ðə lˈeɪdiz bˈɛk,) ænd ðˌoʊ hiː θˈɪŋks æz mˈʌtʃ ʌv ɡˈoʊld æz ˈɛvɚ mˈiːdəz[θɹˈiː] dˈɪd ʌv ˈoʊld: jʊɹ tʃˈɑːɹmz aɪm ʃˈʊɹ kæn nˈɛvɚ fˈeɪl, jʊɹ ˈaɪz mˈʌst ˈɪnfluːəns, mˈʌst pɹɪvˈeɪl; æt jʊɹ kəmˈænd hiːl sˈɛt ˌʌs fɹˈiː, lˈɛt ˌʌs tə juː ˈoʊ lˈɪbɚɾi.