text_original: Ev'n quit the house, for thou too long hast sat in't, Produce at last thy dormant ducal patent; There near thy master's throne in shelter placed, Let Will, unheard by thee, his thunder waste; Yet still I fear your work is done but half, For while he keeps his pen you are not safe. Hear an old fable, and a dull one too; It bears a moral when applied to you.
text_transcription: EVEN QUIT THE HOUSE WHERE THOU TOO LONG HAST SAT INT PRODUCE AT LAST THY DORMANT DUCAL PATENT THERE NEAR THY MASTERS THRONE IN SHELTER PLACED LET WILL UNHEARD BY THEE HIS THUNDER WASTE YET STILL I FEAR YOUR WORK IS DONE BUT HATE FOR WHILE HE KEEPS HIS PEN YOU ARE NOT SAFE HERE AN OLD FABLE AND A DULL ONE TOO IT BEARS A MORAL WHEN APPLIED TO YOU
phonemes: ˈɛvn kwˈɪt ðə hˈaʊs, fɔːɹ ðˈaʊ tˈuː lˈɔŋ hˈeɪst sˈæt ˈɪnt, pɹədˈuːs æt lˈæst ðˌaɪ dˈɔːɹmənt dˈuːkəl pˈæʔn̩t; ðɛɹ nˌɪɹ ðˌaɪ mˈæstɚz θɹˈoʊn ɪn ʃˈɛltɚ plˈeɪst, lˈɛt wˈɪl, ʌnhˈɜːd baɪ ðˈiː, hɪz θˈʌndɚ wˈeɪst; jˈɛt stˈɪl aɪ fˈɪɹ jʊɹ wˈɜːk ɪz dˈʌn bˌʌt hˈæf, fɔːɹ wˌaɪl hiː kˈiːps hɪz pˈɛn juː ɑːɹ nˌɑːt sˈeɪf. hˈɪɹ ɐn ˈoʊld fˈeɪbəl, ænd ɐ dˈʌl wˈʌn tˈuː; ɪt bˈɛɹz ɐ mˈɔːɹəl wɛn ɐplˈaɪd tə juː.