text_original: When Malherbe was dying, he reprimanded his nurse for making use of a solecism in her language; and when his confessor represented to him the felicities of a future state in low and trite expressions, the dying critic interrupted him:  "Hold your tongue," he said; "your wretched style only makes me out of conceit with them!"
text_transcription: WHEN MALAB WAS DYING HE REPRIMANDED HIS NURSE FOR MAKING USE OF A SOLECISM IN HER LANGUAGE AND WHEN HIS CONFESSOR REPRESENTED TO HIM THE FELICITIES OF A FUTURE STATE IN LOW AND TRIED EXPRESSIONS THE DYING CRITIC INTERRUPTED HIM HOLD YOUR TONGUE HE SAID YOUR WRETCHED STYLE ONLY MAKES ME OUT OF CONCEIT WITH THEM
phonemes: wˌɛn mˈælhɚb wʌz dˈaɪɪŋ, hiː ɹˈɛpɹɪmˌændᵻd hɪz nˈɜːs fɔːɹ mˌeɪkɪŋ jˈuːs əvə sˈoʊlsɪzəm ɪn hɜː lˈæŋɡwɪdʒ; ænd wɛn hɪz kənfˈɛsɚ ɹˌɛpɹᵻzˈɛntᵻd tə hˌɪm ðə fɛlˈɪsᵻɾiz əvə fjˈuːtʃɚ stˈeɪt ɪn lˈoʊ ænd tɹˈaɪt ɛkspɹˈɛʃənz, ðə dˈaɪɪŋ kɹˈɪɾɪk ˌɪntɚɹˈʌptᵻd hˌɪm:  "hˈoʊld jʊɹ tˈʌŋ," hiː sˈɛd; "jʊɹ ɹˈɛtʃᵻd stˈaɪl ˈoʊnli mˌeɪks mˌiː ˌaʊɾəv kənsˈiːt wɪð ðˌɛm!"