text_original: "Be calm? Was I unpleasant? Then I'll be more discreet, And grant you, for the present, The balm of my defeat: What she, with all her striving, Could not have brought about, You've done. Your own contriving Has put the last light out.
text_transcription: BE CALM WAS I UNPLEASANT THEN I'LL BE MORE DISCREET AND GRANT YOU FOR THE PRESENT THE BALM OF MY DEFEAT WHAT SHE WITH ALL HER STRIVING COULD NOT HAVE BROUGHT ABOUT YOU'VE DONE YOUR OWN CONTRIVING HAS PUT THE LAST LIGHT OUT
phonemes: "biː kˈɑːm? wʌz aɪ ʌnplˈɛzənt? ðˈɛn aɪl biː mˈɔːɹ dɪskɹˈiːt, ænd ɡɹˈænt juː, fɚðə pɹˈɛzənt, ðə bˈɑːm ʌv maɪ dᵻfˈiːt: wˌʌt ʃiː, wɪð ˈɔːl hɜː stɹˈaɪvɪŋ, kʊd nˌɑːɾɐv bɹˈɔːt ɐbˈaʊt, juːv dˈʌn. jʊɹ ˈoʊn kəntɹˈaɪvɪŋ hɐz pˌʊt ðə lˈæst lˈaɪt ˈaʊt.