text_original: 49 AN OLD FRIEND. I HAVE waited, old friend, for your last command, And now has come the day, When we both understand we must take in hand A bout of good sword play. I shall hold my guard and look in your face, And am ready the worst to endure ; And though you must win, I shall ask no grace, From your strokes so keen and sure.
text_transcription: AN OLD FRIEND I HAVE WAITED OLD FRIEND FOR YOUR LAST COMMAND AND NOW HAS COME THE DAY WHEN WE BOTH UNDERSTAND WE MUST TAKE IN HAND A BOUT OF GOOD SWORD PLAY I SHALL HOLD MY GUARD AND LOOK IN YOUR FACE AND AM READY THE WORST TO ENDURE AND THOUGH YOU MUST WIN I SHALL ASK NO GRACE FROM YOUR STROKES SO KEEN AND SURE
phonemes: fˈɔːɹɾi nˈaɪn ɐn ˈoʊld fɹˈɛnd. aɪ hæv wˈeɪɾᵻd, ˈoʊld fɹˈɛnd, fɔːɹ jʊɹ lˈæst kəmˈænd, ænd nˈaʊ hɐz kˈʌm ðə dˈeɪ, wˌɛn wiː bˈoʊθ ˌʌndɚstˈænd wiː mˈʌst tˈeɪk ɪn hˈænd ɐ bˈaʊt ʌv ɡˈʊd sˈɔːɹd plˈeɪ. aɪʃˌɐl hˈoʊld maɪ ɡˈɑːɹd ænd lˈʊk ɪn jʊɹ fˈeɪs, ænd ɐm ɹˈɛdi ðə wˈɜːst tʊ ɛndˈʊɹ ; ænd ðˌoʊ juː mˈʌst wˈɪn, aɪʃˌɐl ˈæsk nˈoʊ ɡɹˈeɪs, fɹʌm jʊɹ stɹˈoʊks sˌoʊ kˈiːn ænd ʃˈʊɹ.