text_original: His dress seemed to impress the man in red, who bowed low as if accustomed to respect that garb, and said with some hesitation : " Sir, is our business with jour worship ? " " Yes, yes," hastily replied Musdcemon, confirmed in his hope of escape by this polite address, and failing to observe the bloody hue of the speaker's garments. " Your name," said the man, his eyes fixed on a parch  ment which he had just unrolled, " is Turiaf Musdoemon, I believe."
text_transcription: HIS DRESS SEEMED TO IMPRESS THE MAN IN RED WHO BOWED LOW AS IF ACCUSTOMED TO RESPECT THAT GARB AND SAID WITH SOME HESITATION SIR IS OUR BUSINESS WITH YOUR WORSHIP YES YES HASTILY REPLIED MASDEEMON CONFIRMED IN HIS HOPE OF ESCAPE BY THIS POLITE ADDRESS AND FAILING TO OBSERVE THE BLOODY HUE OF THE SPEAKER'S GARMENTS YOUR NAME SAID THE MAN HIS EYES FIXED ON A PARCHMENT WHICH HE HAD JUST UNROLLED IS TURYEV MOSDEEMON I BELIEVE
phonemes: hɪz dɹˈɛs sˈiːmd tʊ ɪmpɹˈɛs ðə mˈæn ɪn ɹˈɛd, hˌuː bˈaʊd lˈoʊ æz ɪf ɐkˈʌstəmd tə ɹᵻspˈɛkt ðæt ɡˈɑːɹb, ænd sˈɛd wɪð sˌʌm hˌɛzɪtˈeɪʃən : " sˌɜː, ɪz ˌaʊɚ bˈɪznəs wɪð ʒˈʊɹ wˈɜːʃɪp ? " " jˈɛs, jˈɛs," hˈeɪstili ɹᵻplˈaɪd mˈʌsdsɛmən, kənfˈɜːmd ɪn hɪz hˈoʊp ʌv ɛskˈeɪp baɪ ðɪs pəlˈaɪt ɐdɹˈɛs, ænd fˈeɪlɪŋ tʊ əbzˈɜːv ðə blˈʌdi hjˈuː ʌvðə spˈiːkɚz ɡˈɑːɹmənts. " jʊɹ nˈeɪm," sˈɛd ðə mˈæn, hɪz ˈaɪz fˈɪkst ˌɔn ɐ pˈɑːɹtʃ mˈɛnt wˌɪtʃ hiː hæd dʒˈʌst ʌnɹˈoʊld, " ɪz tjɚɹˈɪæf mˈʌsdoʊmən, aɪ bᵻlˈiːv."