text_original: Though we play them tricks for ever, Yet they always hope our favour. ON A CANDLE TO LADY CARTERET Of all inhabitants on earth, To man alone I owe my birth, And yet the cow, the sheep, the bee, Are all my parents more than he: I, a virtue, strange and rare, Make the fairest look more fair, And myself, which yet is rarer, Growing old, grow still the fairer.
text_transcription: THOUGH WE PLAY THEM TRICKS FOR EVER YET THEY ALWAYS HOPE OUR FAVOUR ON A CANDLE TO LADY CARTERET OF ALL INHABITANTS ON EARTH TO MAN ALONE I OWE MY BIRTH AND YET THE COW THE SHEEP THE BEE ARE ALL MY PARENTS MORE THAN HE I A VIRTUE STRANGE AND RARE MAKE THE FAIREST LOOK MORE FAIR AND MYSELF WHICH YET IS RARER GROWING OLD GROW STILL THE FAIRER
phonemes: ðˌoʊ wiː plˈeɪ ðˌɛm tɹˈɪks fɔːɹ ˈɛvɚ, jˈɛt ðeɪ ˈɔːlweɪz hˈoʊp ˌaʊɚ fˈeɪvɚ. ˌɔn ɐ kˈændəl tuː lˈeɪdi kˈɑːɹɾɚɹət ʌv ˈɔːl ɪnhˈæbɪtənts ˌɔn ˈɜːθ, tə mˈæn ɐlˈoʊn aɪ ˈoʊ maɪ bˈɜːθ, ænd jˈɛt ðə kˈaʊ, ðə ʃˈiːp, ðə bˈiː, ɑːɹ ˈɔːl maɪ pˈɛɹənts mˈɔːɹ ðɐn hiː: ˈaɪ, ɐ vˈɜːtʃuː, stɹˈeɪndʒ ænd ɹˈɛɹ, mˌeɪk ðə fˈɛɹəst lˈʊk mˈɔːɹ fˈɛɹ, ænd maɪsˈɛlf, wˌɪtʃ jˈɛt ɪz ɹˈɛɹɚ, ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ ˈoʊld, ɡɹˈoʊ stˈɪl ðə fˈɛɹɚ.