text_original: From my hackney coach, Sept. 11, 1718, past 12 at noon. [Footnote 1: A damsel, _i.e._, _Adam's Hell_.  _H._ Vir Gin.  _Dublin Edition._] DR. SHERIDAN'S REPLY TO THE DEAN Don't think these few lines which I send, a reproach, From my Muse in a car, to your Muse in a coach. The great god of poems delights in a car, Which makes him so bright that we see him from far; For, were he mew'd up in a coach, 'tis allow'd We'd see him no more than we see through a cloud.
text_transcription: FROM MY HACKNEY COACH SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN PAST TWELVE AT NOON DOCTOR SHERIDAN'S REPLY TO THE DEAN DON'T THINK THESE FEW LINES WHICH I SEND A REPROACH FROM MY MUSE IN A CAR TO YOUR MEWS IN A COACH THE GREAT GOD OF POEMS DELIGHTS IN A CAR WHICH MAKES HIM SO BRIGHT THAT WE SEE HIM FROM FAR FOR WERE HE MEWED UP IN A COACH TIS ALLOWED WE'D SEE HIM NO MORE THAN WE SEE THROUGH A CLOUD
phonemes: fɹʌm maɪ hˈækni kˈoʊtʃ, sˈɛpt. ɪlˈɛvən, wˈʌn θˈaʊzənd sˈɛvənhˈʌndɹɪd ˈeɪtiːn, pˈæst twˈɛlv æt nˈuːn. [fˈʊtnoʊt wˈʌn: ɐ dˈæmsəl, ˈaɪ.ˈiː., ˈædəmz hˈɛl.  ˈeɪtʃ.vˈɜː dʒˈɪn.  dˈʌblɪn ᵻdˈɪʃən.] dˌiːˈɑːɹ. ʃˈɛɹɪdənz ɹᵻplˈaɪ tuː ðə dˈiːn dˈoʊnt θˈɪŋk ðiːz fjˈuː lˈaɪnz wˌɪtʃ aɪ sˈɛnd, ɐ ɹᵻpɹˈoʊtʃ, fɹʌm maɪ mjˈuːz ɪn ɐ kˈɑːɹ, tə jʊɹ mjˈuːz ɪn ɐ kˈoʊtʃ. ðə ɡɹˈeɪt ɡˈɑːd ʌv pˈoʊᵻmz dᵻlˈaɪts ɪn ɐ kˈɑːɹ, wˌɪtʃ mˌeɪks hˌɪm sˌoʊ bɹˈaɪt ðæt wiː sˈiː hˌɪm fɹʌm fˈɑːɹ; fɔːɹ, wɜː hiː mjˈuːd ˌʌp ɪn ɐ kˈoʊtʃ, tˈɪz ɐlˈaʊd wiːd sˈiː hˌɪm nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ ðɐn wiː sˈiː θɹuː ɐ klˈaʊd.