text_original: Jove, with all his loudest thunder, When I'm vext, can't keep me under; Yet so tender is my ear, That the lowest voice I fear; Much I dread the courtier's fate, When his merit's out of date, For I hate a silent breath, And a whisper is my death.
text_transcription: JOVE WITH ALL HIS LOUDEST THUNDER WHEN I'M VEXED CAN'T KEEP ME UNDER YET SO TENDER IS MY EAR THAT THE LOWEST VOICE I FEAR MUCH I DREAD THE COURTIER'S FATE WHEN HIS MERIT'S OUT OF DATE FOR I HATE A SILENT BREATH AND A WHISPER IS MY DEATH
phonemes: dʒˈoʊv, wɪð ˈɔːl hɪz lˈaʊdɪst θˈʌndɚ, wˌɛn aɪm vˈɛkst, kˈænt kˈiːp mˌiː ˈʌndɚ; jˈɛt sˌoʊ tˈɛndɚɹ ɪz maɪ ˈɪɹ, ðætðə lˈoʊɪst vˈɔɪs aɪ fˈɪɹ; mˈʌtʃ aɪ dɹˈɛd ðə kˈɔːɹɾiɚz fˈeɪt, wˌɛn hɪz mˈɛɹɪts ˌaʊɾəv dˈeɪt, fɔːɹ aɪ hˈeɪt ɐ sˈaɪlənt bɹˈɛθ, ænd ɐ wˈɪspɚɹ ɪz maɪ dˈɛθ.