text_original: there is a toil That with all others level stauds; Large charity doth never soil, But only whiten, soft white hands — This is the best crop from thy lands; A heritage it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee.
text_transcription: THERE IS A TOIL THAT WITH ALL OTHERS LEVEL STANDS LARGE CHARITY DOTH NEVER SOIL BUT ONLY WHITEN SOFT WHITE HANDS THIS IS THE BEST CROP FROM THY LANDS A HERITAGE IT SEEMS TO ME WORTH BEING RICH TO HOLD IN FEE
phonemes: ðɛɹ ɪz ɐ tˈɔɪl ðæt wɪð ˈɔːl ˈʌðɚz lˈɛvəl stˈɔːdz; lˈɑːɹdʒ tʃˈæɹᵻɾi dʌθ nˈɛvɚ sˈɔɪl, bˌʌt ˈoʊnli wˈaɪʔn̩, sˈɔft wˈaɪt hˈændz — ðɪs ɪz ðə bˈɛst kɹˈɑːp fɹʌm ðˌaɪ lˈændz; ɐ hˈɛɹɪɾɪdʒ ɪt sˈiːmz tə mˌiː, wˈɜːθ bˌiːɪŋ ɹˈɪtʃ tə hˈoʊld ɪn fˈiː.