text_original: " It is for my love of you that they hurt me thus ; and you endure it ! " From many an honest servant of Francis this cry must have gone u]3, for neither gratitude nor pity beat under that dinted breastplate of his.
text_transcription: IT IS FOR MY LOVE OF YOU THAT THEY HURT ME THUS AND YOU ENDURE IT FROM MANY AN HONEST SERVANT OF FRANCIS THIS CRY MUST HAVE GONE UP FOR NEITHER GRATITUDE NOR PITY BEAT UNDER THAT DINTED BREASTPLATE OF HIS
phonemes: " ɪɾ ɪz fɔːɹ maɪ lˈʌv ʌv juː ðæt ðeɪ hˈɜːt mˌiː ðˈʌs ; ænd juː ɛndˈʊɹ ɪt ! " fɹʌm mˈɛni ɐn ˈɑːnɪst sˈɜːvənt ʌv fɹˈænsɪs ðɪs kɹˈaɪ mˈʌstɐv ɡɔn jˈuː]θɹˈiː, fɔːɹ nˈiːðɚ ɡɹˈæɾɪtˌuːd nˈɔːɹ pˈɪɾi bˈiːt ˌʌndɚ ðæt dˈɪntᵻd bɹˈɛstpleɪt ʌv hˈɪz.