text_original: Nay; man my master is my slave; I give command to kill or save, Can grant ten thousand pounds a year, And make a beggar's brat a peer. But, while I thus my life relate, I only hasten on my fate. My tongue is black, my mouth is furr'd, I hardly now can force a word. I die unpitied and forgot, And on some dunghill left to rot.
text_transcription: NAY MAN MY MASTER IS MY SLAVE I GIVE COMMAND TO KILL OR SAVE CAN GRANT TEN THOUSAND POUNDS A YEAR AND MAKE A BEGGAR'S BRAT APPEAR BUT WHILE I THUS MY LIFE RELATE I ONLY HASTEN ON MY FATE MY TONGUE IS BLACK MY MOUTH IS FURRED I HARDLY NOW CAN FORCE A WORD I DIE UNPITIED AND FORGOT AND ON SOME DUNGHILL LEFT TO ROT
phonemes: nˈeɪ; mˈæn maɪ mˈæstɚɹ ɪz maɪ slˈeɪv; aɪ ɡˈɪv kəmˈænd tə kˈɪl ɔːɹ sˈeɪv, kæn ɡɹˈænt tˈɛn θˈaʊzənd pˈaʊndz ɐ jˈɪɹ, ænd mˌeɪk ɐ bˈɛɡɚz bɹˈæt ɐ pˈɪɹ. bˌʌt, wˌaɪl aɪ ðˈʌs maɪ lˈaɪf ɹᵻlˈeɪt, aɪ ˈoʊnli hˈeɪsən ˌɔn maɪ fˈeɪt. maɪ tˈʌŋ ɪz blˈæk, maɪ mˈaʊθ ɪz fˈɜːd, aɪ hˈɑːɹdli nˈaʊ kæn fˈɔːɹs ɐ wˈɜːd. aɪ dˈaɪ ʌnpˈɪɾid ænd fɚɡˈɑːt, ænd ˌɔn sˌʌm dˈʌŋhɪl lˈɛft tə ɹˈɑːt.