text_original: The turnkey shook his head : " That 's a different matter ; you have no right to complain. Your cell is not so cold as the one you will have to sleep in to morrow, and yet I '11 be bound you won't notice the hardness of that bed." HANS OF ICELAND. 501 So saying, the jailer withdrew, followed by the curses of the monster, who continued to rattle his chains, which gave forth a hollow clang as if they were breaking slowly under repeated and violent jerks and pulls. The door opened.
text_transcription: THE TURNKEY SHOOK HIS HEAD THAT'S A DIFFERENT MATTER YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO COMPLAIN YOUR CELL IS NOT SO COLD AS THE ONE YOU WILL HAVE TO SLEEP IN TO MORROW AND YET I'LL BE BOUND YOU WON'T NOTICE THE HARDNESS OF THAT BED SO SAYING THE JAILER WITHDREW FOLLOWED BY THE CURSES OF THE MONSTER WHO CONTINUED TO RATTLE HIS CHAINS WHICH GAVE FORTH A HOLLOW CLANG AS IF THEY WERE BREAKING SLOWLY UNDER REPEATED AND VIOLENT JERKS AND PULLS THE DOOR OPENED
phonemes: ðə tˈɜːŋkiː ʃˈʊk hɪz hˈɛd : " ðæt ˈɛs ɐ dˈɪfɹənt mˈæɾɚ ; juː hæv nˈoʊ ɹˈaɪt tə kəmplˈeɪn. jʊɹ sˈɛl ɪz nˌɑːt sˌoʊ kˈoʊld æz ðə wˈʌn juː wɪl hæv tə slˈiːp ɪn tə mˈɑːɹoʊ, ænd jˈɛt aɪ ɪlˈɛvən biː bˈaʊnd juː woʊnt nˈoʊɾɪs ðə hˈɑːɹdnəs ʌv ðæt bˈɛd." hˈænz ʌv ˈaɪslənd. fˈaɪvhˈʌndɹɪd wˈʌn sˌoʊ sˈeɪɪŋ, ðə dʒˈeɪlɚ wɪθdɹˈuː, fˈɑːloʊd baɪ ðə kˈɜːsᵻz ʌvðə mˈɔnstɚ, hˌuː kəntˈɪnjuːd tə ɹˈæɾəl hɪz tʃˈeɪnz, wˌɪtʃ ɡˈeɪv fˈɔːɹθ ɐ hˈɑːloʊ klˈæŋ æz ɪf ðeɪ wɜː bɹˈeɪkɪŋ slˈoʊli ˌʌndɚ ɹᵻpˈiːɾᵻd ænd vˈaɪələnt dʒˈɜːks ænd pˈʊlz. ðə dˈɔːɹ ˈoʊpənd.