text_original: II Nay, I was not insensate till you came; I know man likes to think a woman clay, Devoid of feeling till the warming ray Sent from his heart lights her with sudden flame.
text_transcription: TWO NAY I WAS NOT INSENSATE TILL YOU CAME I KNOW MAN LIKES TO THINK A WOMAN CLAY DEVOID OF FEELING TILL THE WARMING RAY SENT FROM HIS HEART LIGHTS HER WITH SUDDEN FLAME
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən tˈuː nˈeɪ, aɪ wʌz nˌɑːt ɪnsˈɛnseɪt tˈɪl juː kˈeɪm; aɪ nˈoʊ mˈæn lˈaɪks tə θˈɪŋk ɐ wˈʊmən klˈeɪ, dɪvˈɔɪd ʌv fˈiːlɪŋ tˈɪl ðə wˈɔːɹmɪŋ ɹˈeɪ sˈɛnt fɹʌm hɪz hˈɑːɹt lˈaɪts hɜː wɪð sˈʌdən flˈeɪm.