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How dreary to be somebody!How public, like a frogTo tell your name the livelong dayTo an admiring bog!

haʊ dɹɪɹi tu bi sʌmbɑdi!haʊ pʌblɪk, laɪk ʌ tɛl jɔɹ neɪm ðʌ æn ædmaɪɹɪŋ bɑɡ!

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Are you nobody, too?Then there 's a pair of us—don't tell!They 'd banish us, you know.How dreary to be somebody!

ɑɹ ju noʊbɑdi, tu?ðɛn ðɛɹ 'ɛs ʌ pɛɹ ʌv ʌs—dɑn'ti tɛl!ðeɪ 'di bænɪʃ ʌs, ju noʊ.haʊ dɹɪɹi tu bi sʌmbɑdi!

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I saw that fairy mountain. . . . I watched it form and fade. No doubt the gods were smiling, When Nippon isle was made.

aɪ sɔ ðæt fɛɹi maʊntʌn. . . . aɪ wɑtʃt ɪt fɔɹm ʌnd feɪd. noʊ daʊt ðʌ ɡɑdz wɜ˞ smaɪlɪŋ, wɛn nɪpɑn aɪl wɑz meɪd.

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I saw, on twisted bridges, In blue and crimson gleams, The lanterns of the fishers, Along the brook of dreams. I saw the wreathes of incense Like little ghosts arise, From temples under Fuji, From Fuji to the skies.

aɪ sɔ, ɑn twɪstɪd bɹɪdʒʌz, ɪn blu ʌnd kɹɪmzʌn ɡlimz, ðʌ læntɜ˞nz ʌv ðʌ fɪʃɜ˞z, ʌlɔŋ ðʌ bɹʊk ʌv dɹimz. aɪ sɔ ðʌ ʌv ɪnsɛns laɪk lɪtʌl ɡoʊsts ɜ˞aɪz, fɹʌm tɛmpʌlz ʌndɜ˞ fudʒi, fɹʌm fudʒi tu ðʌ skaɪz.

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Beyond the wide Pacific I saw its mounded snow Miraculously changing In that deep evening glow, To rosy rifts and hillocks, To orchards that I knew, The snows or peach and cherry, And feathers of bamboo.

bɪɑnd ðʌ waɪd pʌsɪfɪk aɪ sɔ ɪts snoʊ mɜ˞ækjʌlʌsli tʃeɪndʒɪŋ ɪn ðæt dip ivnɪŋ ɡloʊ, tu ɹoʊzi ɹɪfts ʌnd , tu ɔɹtʃɜ˞dz ðæt aɪ nu, ðʌ snoʊz ɔɹ pitʃ ʌnd tʃɛɹi, ʌnd fɛðɜ˞z ʌv bæmbu.

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. I saw a cloud of white Drifting before the sunset On seas of opal light.

. aɪ sɔ ʌ klaʊd ʌv waɪt dɹɪftɪŋ bɪfɔɹ ðʌ sʌnsɛt ɑn siz ʌv oʊpʌl laɪt.

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Sweet Hero! she is wronged; she is slandered; she is undone.

swit hɪɹoʊ! ʃi ɪz ɹɔŋd; ʃi ɪz slændɜ˞d; ʃi ɪz ʌndʌn.

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or that I had any friend, who would be a man for my sake!

ɔɹ ðæt aɪ hæd ɛni fɹɛnd, hu wʊd bi ʌ mæn fɔɹ maɪ seɪk!

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or that I had any friend, who would be a man for my sake! but valour is melted into courtesies and compliments.

ɔɹ ðæt aɪ hæd ɛni fɹɛnd, hu wʊd bi ʌ mæn fɔɹ maɪ seɪk! bʌt ɪz mɛltʌd ɪntu kɜ˞tʌsiz ʌnd kɑmplʌmɛnts.

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It sits lookingover harbor and cityon silent haunchesand then moves on.

ɪt sɪts hɑɹbɜ˞ ʌnd saɪlʌnt ðɛn muvz ɑn.

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Fog THE FOG comeson little cat feet.

fɑɡ ðʌ fɑɡ lɪtʌl kæt fit.

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The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, 5 The higher he 's a getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he 's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; 10 But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.

ðʌ ɡlɔɹiʌs læmp ʌv hɛvʌn, ðʌ sʌn, ðʌ haɪɜ˞ hi 'ɛs ʌ ɡɛtɪŋ, ðʌ sunɜ˞ wɪl hɪz ɹeɪs bi ɹʌn, ʌnd nɪɹɜ˞ hi 'ɛs tu sɛtɪŋ. ðæt eɪdʒ ɪz bɛst wɪtʃ ɪz ðʌ fɜ˞st, wɛn juθ ʌnd blʌd ɑɹ wɔɹmɜ˞; bʌt biɪŋ spɛnt, ðʌ wɜ˞s, ʌnd wɜ˞st taɪmz stɪl sʌksid ðʌ fɔɹmɜ˞.

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Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, 15 You may for ever tarry.

ðɛn bi nɑt kɔɪ, bʌt jus jɔɹ taɪm, ʌnd waɪl ji meɪ, ɡoʊ mɛɹi: fɔɹ hævɪŋ lɔst bʌt wʌns jɔɹ pɹaɪm, ju meɪ fɔɹ ɛvɜ˞ tɛɹi.

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To the Virgins, to make much of Time GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles to day To morrow will be dying.

tu ðʌ vɜ˞dʒʌnz, tu meɪk mʌtʃ ʌv taɪm ɡæðɜ˞ ji waɪl ji meɪ, oʊld taɪm ɪz stɪl ʌ flaɪɪŋ: ʌnd ðɪs seɪm flaʊɜ˞ ðæt smaɪlz tu deɪ tu mɑɹoʊ wɪl bi daɪɪŋ.

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Dust, to its narrow house beneath! 5 Soul, to its place on high! They that have seen thy look in death No more may fear to die.

dʌst, tu ɪts nɛɹoʊ haʊs bɪniθ! soʊl, tu ɪts pleɪs ɑn haɪ! ðeɪ ðæt hæv sin ðaɪ lʊk ɪn dɛθ noʊ mɔɹ meɪ fɪɹ tu daɪ.

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E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust, to its narrow house beneath! 5 Soul, to its place on high!

i'ɛn waɪl wɪð aʊɜ˞z ðaɪ fʊtstɛps tɹɑd, hɪz sil wɑz ɑn ðaɪ bɹaʊ. dʌst, tu ɪts nɛɹoʊ haʊs bɪniθ! soʊl, tu ɪts pleɪs ɑn haɪ!

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Felicia Dorothea Hemans. 1793–1835 622. Dirge CALM on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow.

fʌliʃʌ dɔɹʌθiʌ . – . dɜ˞dʒ kɑm ɑn ðʌ bʊzʌm ʌv ðaɪ ɡɑd, fɛɹ spɪɹʌt, ɹɛst ði naʊ! i'ɛn waɪl wɪð aʊɜ˞z ðaɪ fʊtstɛps tɹɑd, hɪz sil wɑz ɑn ðaɪ bɹaʊ.

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Both child and nurse are fast asleep, And closed is every flower, 10 And winking tapers faintly peep High from my lady's bower; Bewilder'd hinds with shorten'd ken Shrink on their murky way; Uprouse ye then, my merry men! 15 It is our op'ning day.

boʊθ tʃaɪld ʌnd nɜ˞s ɑɹ fæst ʌslip, ʌnd kloʊzd ɪz ɛvɜ˞i flaʊɜ˞, ʌnd wɪŋkɪŋ teɪpɜ˞z feɪntli pip haɪ fɹʌm maɪ leɪdi'ɛs baʊɜ˞; bɪwɪldɜ˞'di haɪndz wɪð ʃɔɹtʌn'di kɛn ʃɹɪŋk ɑn ðɛɹ mɜ˞ki weɪ; ji ðɛn, maɪ mɛɹi mɛn! ɪt ɪz aʊɜ˞ ɑp'nɪŋ deɪ.

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Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof nor latchèd door, Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow To bless a good man's store; 20 Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day; Uprouse ye then, my merry men! And use it as ye may.

nɔɹ bɔɹd nɔɹ ɡɑɹnɜ˞ oʊn wi naʊ, nɔɹ ɹuf nɔɹ dɔɹ, nɔɹ kaɪnd meɪt, baʊnd baɪ hoʊli vaʊ tu blɛs ʌ ɡʊd mæn'ɛs stɔɹ; nun lʌlz ʌs ɪn ʌ ɡlumi dɛn, ʌnd naɪt ɪz ɡɹoʊn aʊɜ˞ deɪ; ji ðɛn, maɪ mɛɹi mɛn! ʌnd jus ɪt æz ji meɪ.

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The wild fire dances on the fen, 5 The red star sheds its ray; Uprouse ye then, my merry men! It is our op'ning day.

ðʌ waɪld faɪɜ˞ dænsʌz ɑn ðʌ fɛn, ðʌ ɹɛd stɑɹ ʃɛdz ɪts ɹeɪ; ji ðɛn, maɪ mɛɹi mɛn! ɪt ɪz aʊɜ˞ ɑp'nɪŋ deɪ.

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The Outlaw's Song THE chough and crow to roost are gone, The owl sits on the tree, The hush'd wind wails with feeble moan, Like infant charity. The wild fire dances on the fen, 5 The red star sheds its ray; Uprouse ye then, my merry men! It is our op'ning day.

ðʌ aʊtlɔ'ɛs sɔŋ ðʌ ʌnd kɹoʊ tu ɹust ɑɹ ɡɔn, ðʌ aʊl sɪts ɑn ðʌ tɹi, ðʌ hʌʃ'di waɪnd weɪlz wɪð fibʌl moʊn, laɪk ɪnfʌnt tʃɛɹɪti. ðʌ waɪld faɪɜ˞ dænsʌz ɑn ðʌ fɛn, ðʌ ɹɛd stɑɹ ʃɛdz ɪts ɹeɪ; ji ðɛn, maɪ mɛɹi mɛn! ɪt ɪz aʊɜ˞ ɑp'nɪŋ deɪ.

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Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, 5 That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But turning, trembles too.

nɔɹ pis nɔɹ iz ðʌ hɑɹt kæn noʊ, ðæt, laɪk ðʌ nidʌl tɹu, tɜ˞nz æt ðʌ tʌtʃ ʌv dʒɔɪ ɔɹ woʊ, bʌt tɜ˞nɪŋ, tu.

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Far as distress the soul can wound, 'Tis pain in each degree: 10 'Tis bliss but to a certain bound, Beyond is agony.

fɑɹ æz dɪstɹɛs ðʌ soʊl kæn waʊnd, 'tɪz peɪn ɪn itʃ dɪɡɹi: 'tɪz blɪs bʌt tu ʌ sɜ˞tʌn baʊnd, bɪɑnd ɪz æɡʌni.

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Fanny Greville. 18th Cent. 475. Prayer for Indifference I ASK no kind return of love, No tempting charm to please; Far from the heart those gifts remove, That sighs for peace and ease.

fæni . sɛnt. . pɹɛɹ fɔɹ ɪndɪfɜ˞ʌns aɪ æsk noʊ kaɪnd ɹɪtɜ˞n ʌv lʌv, noʊ tɛmptɪŋ tʃɑɹm tu pliz; fɑɹ fɹʌm ðʌ hɑɹt ðoʊz ɡɪfts ɹimuv, ðæt saɪz fɔɹ pis ʌnd iz.

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Up in the blue, blue mountains Dewy pastures are sweet: Rest for the little bodies, 15 Rest for the little feet. Rest for the Lamb of God Up on the hill top green, Only a cross of shame Two stark crosses between.

ʌp ɪn ðʌ blu, blu maʊntʌnz dui pæstʃɜ˞z ɑɹ swit: ɹɛst fɔɹ ðʌ lɪtʌl bɑdiz, ɹɛst fɔɹ ðʌ lɪtʌl fit. ɹɛst fɔɹ ðʌ læm ʌv ɡɑd ʌp ɑn ðʌ hɪl tɑp ɡɹin, oʊnli ʌ kɹɔs ʌv ʃeɪm tu stɑɹk kɹɔsɪz bɪtwin.

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20 All in the April evening, April airs were abroad; I saw the sheep with their lambs, And thought on the Lamb of God.

ɔl ɪn ðʌ eɪpɹʌl ivnɪŋ, eɪpɹʌl ɛɹz wɜ˞ ʌbɹɔd; aɪ sɔ ðʌ ʃip wɪð ðɛɹ læmz, ʌnd θɔt ɑn ðʌ læm ʌv ɡɑd.

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The lambs were weary, and crying With a weak human cry, 10 I thought on the Lamb of God Going meekly to die.

ðʌ læmz wɜ˞ wɪɹi, ʌnd kɹaɪɪŋ wɪð ʌ wik hjumʌn kɹaɪ, aɪ θɔt ɑn ðʌ læm ʌv ɡɑd ɡoʊɪŋ mikli tu daɪ.

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The sheep with their little lambs 5 Pass'd me by on the road; All in an April evening I thought on the Lamb of God. The lambs were weary, and crying With a weak human cry, 10 I thought on the Lamb of God Going meekly to die.

ðʌ ʃip wɪð ðɛɹ lɪtʌl læmz pæs'di mi baɪ ɑn ðʌ ɹoʊd; ɔl ɪn æn eɪpɹʌl ivnɪŋ aɪ θɔt ɑn ðʌ læm ʌv ɡɑd. ðʌ læmz wɜ˞ wɪɹi, ʌnd kɹaɪɪŋ wɪð ʌ wik hjumʌn kɹaɪ, aɪ θɔt ɑn ðʌ læm ʌv ɡɑd ɡoʊɪŋ mikli tu daɪ.

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b. 1861 877. Sheep and Lambs ALL in the April morning, April airs were abroad; The sheep with their little lambs Pass'd me by on the road. The sheep with their little lambs 5 Pass'd me by on the road; All in an April evening I thought on the Lamb of God.

bi. . ʃip ʌnd læmz ɔl ɪn ðʌ eɪpɹʌl mɔɹnɪŋ, eɪpɹʌl ɛɹz wɜ˞ ʌbɹɔd; ðʌ ʃip wɪð ðɛɹ lɪtʌl læmz pæs'di mi baɪ ɑn ðʌ ɹoʊd. ðʌ ʃip wɪð ðɛɹ lɪtʌl læmz pæs'di mi baɪ ɑn ðʌ ɹoʊd; ɔl ɪn æn eɪpɹʌl ivnɪŋ aɪ θɔt ɑn ðʌ læm ʌv ɡɑd.

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9The moon gives you light,And the bugles and the drums give you music;And my heart, O my soldiers, my veterans,My heart gives you love.

mun ɡɪvz ju laɪt,ʌnd ðʌ bjuɡʌlz ʌnd ðʌ dɹʌmz ɡɪv ju mjuzɪk;ʌnd maɪ hɑɹt, oʊ maɪ soʊldʒɜ˞z, maɪ vɛtɜ˞ʌnz,maɪ hɑɹt ɡɪvz ju lʌv.

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6Now nearer blow the bugles,And the drums strike more convulsive;And the day light o'er the pavement quite has faded,And the strong dead march enwraps me.

nɪɹɜ˞ bloʊ ðʌ bjuɡʌlz,ʌnd ðʌ dɹʌmz stɹaɪk mɔɹ kʌnvʌlsɪv;ʌnd ðʌ deɪ laɪt oʊ'ɜ˞ ðʌ peɪvmʌnt kwaɪt hæz feɪdʌd,ʌnd ðʌ stɹɔŋ dɛd mɑɹtʃ mi.

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2Lo! the moon ascending!Up from the east, the silvery round moon;Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon;Immense and silent moon.

! ðʌ mun ʌsɛndɪŋ!ʌp fɹʌm ðʌ ist, ðʌ sɪlvɜ˞i ɹaʊnd mun;bjutʌfʌl oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ haʊs tɑps, ɡæstli fæntʌm mun;ɪmɛns ʌnd saɪlʌnt mun.

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8O strong dead march, you please me!O moon immense, with your silvery face you soothe me!O my soldiers twain! O my veterans, passing to burial!What I have I also give you.

stɹɔŋ dɛd mɑɹtʃ, ju pliz mi!oʊ mun ɪmɛns, wɪð jɔɹ sɪlvɜ˞i feɪs ju suð mi!oʊ maɪ soʊldʒɜ˞z tweɪn! oʊ maɪ vɛtɜ˞ʌnz, pæsɪŋ tu bɛɹiʌl!wʌt aɪ hæv aɪ ɔlsoʊ ɡɪv ju.

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5For the son is brought with the father;In the foremost ranks of the fierce assault they fell;Two veterans, son and father, dropt together,And the double grave awaits them.

ðʌ sʌn ɪz bɹɔt wɪð ðʌ fɑðɜ˞;ɪn ðʌ fɔɹmoʊst ɹæŋks ʌv ðʌ fɪɹs ʌsɔlt ðeɪ fɛl;tu vɛtɜ˞ʌnz, sʌn ʌnd fɑðɜ˞, tʌɡɛðɜ˞,ʌnd ðʌ dʌbʌl ɡɹeɪv ʌweɪts ðɛm.

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2Lo! the moon ascending!Up from the east, the silvery round moon;Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon;Immense and silent moon.3I see a sad procession,And I hear the sound of coming full key'd bugles;All the channels of the city streets they're flooding,As with voices and with tears.4I hear the great drums pounding,And the small drums steady whirring;And every blow of the great convulsive drums,Strikes me through and through.

! ðʌ mun ʌsɛndɪŋ!ʌp fɹʌm ðʌ ist, ðʌ sɪlvɜ˞i ɹaʊnd mun;bjutʌfʌl oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ haʊs tɑps, ɡæstli fæntʌm mun;ɪmɛns ʌnd saɪlʌnt mun. si ʌ sæd pɹʌsɛʃʌn,ʌnd aɪ hiɹ ðʌ saʊnd ʌv kʌmɪŋ fʊl ki'di bjuɡʌlz;ɔl ðʌ tʃænʌlz ʌv ðʌ sɪti stɹits ðeɪ'ɹeɪ flʌdɪŋ,æz wɪð vɔɪsʌz ʌnd wɪð tɛɹz. hiɹ ðʌ ɡɹeɪt dɹʌmz paʊndɪŋ,ʌnd ðʌ smɔl dɹʌmz stɛdi wɜ˞ɪŋ;ʌnd ɛvɜ˞i bloʊ ʌv ðʌ ɡɹeɪt kʌnvʌlsɪv dɹʌmz,stɹaɪks mi θɹu ʌnd θɹu.

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7In the eastern sky up buoying,The sorrowful vast phantom moves illumin'd;('Tis some mother's large, transparent face,In heaven brighter growing.)

ðʌ istɜ˞n skaɪ ʌp bɔɪɪŋ,ðʌ sɑɹoʊfʌl væst fæntʌm muvz 'di;('tɪz sʌm mʌðɜ˞'ɛs lɑɹdʒ, tɹænspɛɹʌnt feɪs,ɪn hɛvʌn bɹaɪtɜ˞ ɡɹoʊɪŋ.)

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Dirge for Two Veterans 1THE LAST sunbeamLightly falls from the finish'd Sabbath,On the pavement here—and there beyond, it is looking,Down a new made double grave.

dɜ˞dʒ fɔɹ tu vɛtɜ˞ʌnz læst fɔlz fɹʌm ðʌ fɪnɪʃ'di sæbʌθ,ɑn ðʌ peɪvmʌnt hiɹ—ʌnd ðɛɹ bɪɑnd, ɪt ɪz lʊkɪŋ,daʊn ʌ nu meɪd dʌbʌl ɡɹeɪv.

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The Baron de Batz was a man who never justified either his own ambitions or even his existence; the Scarlet Pimpernel was a personality of whom an entire nation might justly be proud.

ðʌ bæɹʌn di bæts wɑz ʌ mæn hu nɛvɜ˞ dʒʌstʌfaɪd iðɜ˞ hɪz oʊn æmbɪʃʌnz ɔɹ ivɪn hɪz ɛɡzɪstʌns; ðʌ skɑɹlʌt wɑz ʌ pɜ˞sʌnælɪti ʌv hum æn ɪntaɪɜ˞ neɪʃʌn maɪt dʒʌstli bi pɹaʊd.

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The identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel is in no way whatever connected with that of the Baron de Batz, and even superficial reflection will soon bring the mind to the conclusion that great fundamental differences existed in these two men, in their personality, in their character, and, above all, in their aims.

ðʌ aɪdɛntɪti ʌv ðʌ skɑɹlʌt ɪz ɪn noʊ weɪ wʌtɛvɜ˞ kʌnɛktɪd wɪð ðæt ʌv ðʌ bæɹʌn di bæts, ʌnd ivɪn supɜ˞fɪʃʌl ɹɪflɛkʃʌn wɪl sun bɹɪŋ ðʌ maɪnd tu ðʌ kʌnkluʒʌn ðæt ɡɹeɪt fʌndʌmɛntʌl dɪfɜ˞ʌnsɪz ɪɡzɪstʌd ɪn ðiz tu mɛn, ɪn ðɛɹ pɜ˞sʌnælɪti, ɪn ðɛɹ kɛɹɪktɜ˞, ʌnd, ʌbʌv ɔl, ɪn ðɛɹ eɪmz.

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According to one or two enthusiastic historians, the Baron de Batz was the chief agent in a vast network of conspiracy, entirely supported by foreign money both English and Austrian and which had for its object the overthrow of the Republican Government and the restoration of the monarchy in France.

ʌkɔɹdɪŋ tu wʌn ɔɹ tu ɪnθuziæstɪk hɪstɔɹiʌnz, ðʌ bæɹʌn di bæts wɑz ðʌ tʃif eɪdʒʌnt ɪn ʌ væst nɛtwɜ˞k ʌv kʌnspɪɹʌsi, ɪntaɪɜ˞li sʌpɔɹtɪd baɪ fɔɹʌn mʌni boʊθ ɪŋɡlɪʃ ʌnd ɔstɹiʌn ʌnd wɪtʃ hæd fɔɹ ɪts ɑbdʒɛkt ðʌ oʊvɜ˞θɹoʊ ʌv ðʌ ɹɪpʌblɪkʌn ɡʌvɜ˞mʌnt ʌnd ðʌ ɹɛstɜ˞eɪʃʌn ʌv ðʌ mɑnɑɹki ɪn fɹæns.

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Those same enthusiastic historians, who have a firm belief in the so called "Foreign Conspiracy," ascribe every important event of the Great Revolution be that event the downfall of the Girondins, the escape of the Dauphin from the Temple, or the death of Robespierre to the intrigues of Baron de Batz.

ðoʊz seɪm ɪnθuziæstɪk hɪstɔɹiʌnz, hu hæv ʌ fɜ˞m bɪlif ɪn ðʌ soʊ kɔld "fɔɹʌn kʌnspɪɹʌsi," ʌskɹaɪb ɛvɜ˞i ɪmpɔɹtʌnt ɪvɛnt ʌv ðʌ ɡɹeɪt ɹɛvʌluʃʌn bi ðæt ɪvɛnt ðʌ daʊnfɔl ʌv ðʌ , ðʌ ɪskeɪp ʌv ðʌ daʊfɪn fɹʌm ðʌ tɛmpʌl, ɔɹ ðʌ dɛθ ʌv tu ðʌ ɪntɹiɡz ʌv bæɹʌn di bæts.

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For this aim he risked his life every time that he set foot on French soil, for it he sacrificed his fortune, and even his personal happiness, and to it he devoted his entire existence.

fɔɹ ðɪs eɪm hi ɹɪskt hɪz laɪf ɛvɜ˞i taɪm ðæt hi sɛt fʊt ɑn fɹɛntʃ sɔɪl, fɔɹ ɪt hi sækɹʌfaɪst hɪz fɔɹtʃʌn, ʌnd ivɪn hɪz pɜ˞sɪnʌl hæpinʌs, ʌnd tu ɪt hi dɪvoʊtɪd hɪz ɪntaɪɜ˞ ɛɡzɪstʌns.

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Moreover, whereas the French plotter is said to have had confederates even in the Assembly of the Convention, confederates who were sufficiently influential and powerful to secure his own immunity, the Englishman when he was bent on his errands of mercy had the whole of France against him.

mɔɹoʊvɜ˞, wɛɹæz ðʌ fɹɛntʃ plɑtɜ˞ ɪz sɛd tu hæv hæd kʌnfɛdɜ˞ʌts ivɪn ɪn ðʌ ʌsɛmbli ʌv ðʌ kʌnvɛnʃʌn, kʌnfɛdɜ˞ʌts hu wɜ˞ sʌfɪʃʌntli ɪnfluɛnʃʌl ʌnd paʊɜ˞fʌl tu sɪkjʊɹ hɪz oʊn ɪmjunʌti, ðʌ ɪŋɡlɪʃmʌn wɛn hi wɑz bɛnt ɑn hɪz ɛɹʌndz ʌv mɜ˞si hæd ðʌ hoʊl ʌv fɹæns ʌɡɛnst hɪm.

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The Scarlet Pimpernel did not take it upon himself to punish the guilty; his care was solely of the helpless and of the innocent.

ðʌ skɑɹlʌt dɪd nɑt teɪk ɪt ʌpɑn hɪmsɛlf tu pʌnɪʃ ðʌ ɡɪlti; hɪz kɛɹ wɑz soʊʌli ʌv ðʌ hɛlplʌs ʌnd ʌv ðʌ ɪnʌsʌnt.

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resounded from one end of the Assembly of the Convention to the other, and the Assembly itself became as one vast den of wild beasts wherein wolves and hyenas devoured one another and, still unsatiated, licked their streaming jaws hungering for more prey.

fɹʌm wʌn ɛnd ʌv ðʌ ʌsɛmbli ʌv ðʌ kʌnvɛnʃʌn tu ðʌ ʌðɜ˞, ʌnd ðʌ ʌsɛmbli ɪtsɛlf bɪkeɪm æz wʌn væst dɛn ʌv waɪld bists wɛɹɪn wʊlvz ʌnd haɪinʌz dɪvaʊɜ˞d wʌn ʌnʌðɜ˞ ʌnd, stɪl , lɪkt ðɛɹ stɹimɪŋ dʒɔz hʌŋɡɜ˞ɪŋ fɔɹ mɔɹ pɹeɪ.

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Though he made several attempts at rescuing King Louis first, and then the Queen and Royal Family from prison and from death, he never succeeded, as we know, in any of these undertakings, and he never once so much as attempted the rescue of other equally innocent, if not quite so distinguished, victims of the most bloodthirsty revolution that has ever shaken the foundations of the civilised world.

ðoʊ hi meɪd sɛvɹʌl ʌtɛmpts æt ɹɛskjuɪŋ kɪŋ luɪs fɜ˞st, ʌnd ðɛn ðʌ kwin ʌnd ɹɔɪʌl fæmʌli fɹʌm pɹɪzʌn ʌnd fɹʌm dɛθ, hi nɛvɜ˞ sʌksidɪd, æz wi noʊ, ɪn ɛni ʌv ðiz ʌndɜ˞teɪkɪŋz, ʌnd hi nɛvɜ˞ wʌns soʊ mʌtʃ æz ʌtɛmptɪd ðʌ ɹɛskju ʌv ʌðɜ˞ ikwʌli ɪnʌsʌnt, ɪf nɑt kwaɪt soʊ dɪstɪŋɡwɪʃt, vɪktʌmz ʌv ðʌ moʊst blʌdθɜ˞sti ɹɛvʌluʃʌn ðæt hæz ɛvɜ˞ ʃeɪkʌn ðʌ faʊndeɪʃʌnz ʌv ðʌ wɜ˞ld.

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Its sole object is to point out the difference between the career of this plotter and that of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

ɪts soʊl ɑbdʒɛkt ɪz tu pɔɪnt aʊt ðʌ dɪfɜ˞ʌns bɪtwin ðʌ kɜ˞ɪɹ ʌv ðɪs plɑtɜ˞ ʌnd ðæt ʌv ðʌ skɑɹlʌt .

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His only concern was the rescue of the innocent, the stretching out of a saving hand to those unfortunate creatures who had fallen into the nets spread out for them by their fellow men; by those who godless, lawless, penniless themselves had sworn to exterminate all those who clung to their belongings, to their religion, and to their beliefs.

hɪz oʊnli kʌnsɜ˞n wɑz ðʌ ɹɛskju ʌv ðʌ ɪnʌsʌnt, ðʌ stɹɛtʃɪŋ aʊt ʌv ʌ seɪvɪŋ hænd tu ðoʊz ʌnfɔɹtʃʌnʌt kɹitʃɜ˞z hu hæd fɑlʌn ɪntu ðʌ nɛts spɹɛd aʊt fɔɹ ðɛm baɪ ðɛɹ fɛloʊ mɛn; baɪ ðoʊz hu ɡɑdlʌs, lɔlʌs, pɛnilʌs ðɛmsɛlvz hæd swɔɹn tu ɪkstɜ˞mʌneɪt ɔl ðoʊz hu klʌŋ tu ðɛɹ bɪlɔŋɪŋz, tu ðɛɹ ɹɪlɪdʒʌn, ʌnd tu ðɛɹ bɪlifs.

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In order to attain this political goal, it is averred that he set himself the task of pitting the members of the revolutionary Government one against the other, and bringing hatred and dissensions amongst them, until the cry of "Traitor!"

ɪn ɔɹdɜ˞ tu ʌteɪn ðɪs pʌlɪtʌkʌl ɡoʊl, ɪt ɪz ðæt hi sɛt hɪmsɛlf ðʌ tæsk ʌv pɪtɪŋ ðʌ mɛmbɜ˞z ʌv ðʌ ɹɛvʌluʃʌnɛɹi ɡʌvɜ˞mʌnt wʌn ʌɡɛnst ðʌ ʌðɜ˞, ʌnd bɹɪŋɪŋ heɪtɹʌd ʌnd ʌmʌŋst ðɛm, ʌntɪl ðʌ kɹaɪ ʌv "tɹeɪtɜ˞!"

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Whether the power thus ascribed to Baron de Batz by his historians is real or imaginary it is not the purpose of this preface to investigate.

wɛðɜ˞ ðʌ paʊɜ˞ ðʌs ʌskɹaɪbd tu bæɹʌn di bæts baɪ hɪz hɪstɔɹiʌnz ɪz ɹil ɔɹ ɪmædʒʌnɛɹi ɪt ɪz nɑt ðʌ pɜ˞pʌs ʌv ðɪs pɹɛfʌs tu ɪnvɛstʌɡeɪt.

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Its sole object is to point out the difference between the career of this plotter and that of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The Baron de Batz himself was an adventurer without substance, save that which he derived from abroad. He was one of those men who have nothing to lose and everything to gain by throwing themselves headlong in the seething cauldron of internal politics.

ɪts soʊl ɑbdʒɛkt ɪz tu pɔɪnt aʊt ðʌ dɪfɜ˞ʌns bɪtwin ðʌ kɜ˞ɪɹ ʌv ðɪs plɑtɜ˞ ʌnd ðæt ʌv ðʌ skɑɹlʌt . ðʌ bæɹʌn di bæts hɪmsɛlf wɑz æn ædvɛntʃɜ˞ɜ˞ wɪθaʊt sʌbstʌns, seɪv ðæt wɪtʃ hi dɜ˞aɪvd fɹʌm ʌbɹɔd. hi wɑz wʌn ʌv ðoʊz mɛn hu hæv nʌθɪŋ tu luz ʌnd ɛvɹiθɪŋ tu ɡeɪn baɪ θɹoʊɪŋ ðɛmsɛlvz hɛdlɔŋ ɪn ðʌ siðɪŋ kɑldɹʌn ʌv ɪntɜ˞nʌl pɑlʌtɪks.

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He never intrigued for the restoration of the monarchy, or even for the overthrow of that Republic which he loathed.

hi nɛvɜ˞ ɪntɹiɡd fɔɹ ðʌ ɹɛstɜ˞eɪʃʌn ʌv ðʌ mɑnɑɹki, ɔɹ ivɪn fɔɹ ðʌ oʊvɜ˞θɹoʊ ʌv ðæt ɹipʌblʌk wɪtʃ hi loʊðd.

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He it was, so they say, who egged the Jacobins on against the Mountain, Robespierre against Danton, Hebert against Robespierre.

hi ɪt wɑz, soʊ ðeɪ seɪ, hu ɛɡd ðʌ ɑn ʌɡɛnst ðʌ maʊntʌn, ʌɡɛnst dæntʌn, hɛbɜ˞t ʌɡɛnst .

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The latter's aims were absolutely non political.

ðʌ lætɜ˞'ɛs eɪmz wɜ˞ æbsʌlutli nɑn pʌlɪtʌkʌl.

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And when we remember that the martyrs of the 29th Prairial included women like Grandmaison, the devoted friend of de Batz, the beautiful Emilie de St. Amaranthe, little Cecile Renault a mere child not sixteen years of age also men like Michonis and Roussell, faithful servants of de Batz, the Baron de Lezardiere, and the Comte de St. Maurice, his friends, we no longer can have the slightest doubt that the Gascon plotter and the English gentleman are indeed two very different persons.

ʌnd wɛn wi ɹɪmɛmbɜ˞ ðæt ðʌ mɑɹtɜ˞z ʌv ðʌ ɪnkludʌd wɪmʌn laɪk ɡɹændmaɪzɑn, ðʌ dɪvoʊtɪd fɹɛnd ʌv di bæts, ðʌ bjutʌfʌl ɛmʌli di stɹit. , lɪtʌl sɪsil ɹʌnoʊ ʌ mɪɹ tʃaɪld nɑt sɪkstin jɪɹz ʌv eɪdʒ ɔlsoʊ mɛn laɪk ʌnd ɹusɛl, feɪθfʌl sɜ˞vʌnts ʌv di bæts, ðʌ bæɹʌn di , ʌnd ðʌ di stɹit. mɔɹis, hɪz fɹɛndz, wi noʊ lɔŋɡɜ˞ kæn hæv ðʌ slaɪtʌst daʊt ðæt ðʌ ɡæskʌn plɑtɜ˞ ʌnd ðʌ ɪŋɡlɪʃ dʒɛntʌlmʌn ɑɹ ɪndid tu vɛɹi dɪfɜ˞ʌnt pɜ˞sʌnz.

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Nay more; when on the 29th Prairial those unfortunate men and women were condemned and executed for alleged complicity in the so called "Foreign Conspiracy," de Batz, who is universally admitted to have been the head and prime mover of that conspiracy if, indeed, conspiracy there was never made either the slightest attempt to rescue his confederates from the guillotine, or at least the offer to perish by their side if he could not succeed in saving them.

neɪ mɔɹ; wɛn ɑn ðʌ ðoʊz ʌnfɔɹtʃʌnʌt mɛn ʌnd wɪmʌn wɜ˞ kʌndɛmd ʌnd ɛksʌkjutɪd fɔɹ ʌlɛdʒd kʌmplɪsʌti ɪn ðʌ soʊ kɔld "fɔɹʌn kʌnspɪɹʌsi," di bæts, hu ɪz junʌvɜ˞sʌli ʌdmɪtɪd tu hæv bɪn ðʌ hɛd ʌnd pɹaɪm muvɜ˞ ʌv ðæt kʌnspɪɹʌsi ɪf, ɪndid, kʌnspɪɹʌsi ðɛɹ wɑz nɛvɜ˞ meɪd iðɜ˞ ðʌ slaɪtʌst ʌtɛmpt tu ɹɛskju hɪz kʌnfɛdɜ˞ʌts fɹʌm ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin, ɔɹ æt list ðʌ ɔfɜ˞ tu pɛɹɪʃ baɪ ðɛɹ saɪd ɪf hi kʊd nɑt sʌksid ɪn seɪvɪŋ ðɛm.

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He it was who instigated the massacres of September, the atrocities of Nantes, the horrors of Thermidor, the sacrileges, the noyades: all with the view of causing every section of the National Assembly to vie with the other in excesses and in cruelty, until the makers of the Revolution, satiated with their own lust, turned on one another, and Sardanapalus like buried themselves and their orgies in the vast hecatomb of a self consumed anarchy.

hi ɪt wɑz hu ɪnstʌɡeɪtɪd ðʌ mæsɪkɜ˞z ʌv sɛptɛmbɜ˞, ðʌ ʌtɹɑsʌtiz ʌv nænts, ðʌ hɔɹɜ˞z ʌv , ðʌ , ðʌ : ɔl wɪð ðʌ vju ʌv kɑzɪŋ ɛvɜ˞i sɛkʃʌn ʌv ðʌ næʃʌnʌl ʌsɛmbli tu vaɪ wɪð ðʌ ʌðɜ˞ ɪn ɛksɛsɪz ʌnd ɪn kɹulti, ʌntɪl ðʌ meɪkɜ˞z ʌv ðʌ ɹɛvʌluʃʌn, seɪʃieɪtɪd wɪð ðɛɹ oʊn lʌst, tɜ˞nd ɑn wʌn ʌnʌðɜ˞, ʌnd laɪk bɛɹid ðɛmsɛlvz ʌnd ðɛɹ ɔɹdʒiz ɪn ðʌ væst ʌv ʌ sɛlf kʌnsumd ænɜ˞ki.

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Paris despite the horrors that had stained her walls had remained a city of pleasure, and the knife of the guillotine did scarce descend more often than did the drop scenes on the stage.

pɛɹɪs dɪspaɪt ðʌ hɔɹɜ˞z ðæt hæd steɪnd hɜ˞ wɔlz hæd ɹɪmeɪnd ʌ sɪti ʌv plɛʒɜ˞, ʌnd ðʌ naɪf ʌv ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin dɪd skɛɹs dɪsɛnd mɔɹ ɔfʌn ðæn dɪd ðʌ dɹɑp sinz ɑn ðʌ steɪdʒ.

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"Spies, of course?" "Spies," assented the other. "And what spies! Were you present at the sitting of the Assembly to day?"

"spaɪz, ʌv kɔɹs?" "spaɪz," ðʌ ʌðɜ˞. "ʌnd wʌt spaɪz! wɜ˞ ju pɹɛzʌnt æt ðʌ sɪtɪŋ ʌv ðʌ ʌsɛmbli tu deɪ?"

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"We have to think of the future, my good St. Just," he said after a slight pause, and speaking slowly and decisively, like a father rebuking a hot headed child, "not of the present.

"wi hæv tu θɪŋk ʌv ðʌ fjutʃɜ˞, maɪ ɡʊd stɹit. dʒʌst," hi sɛd æftɜ˞ ʌ slaɪt pɔz, ʌnd spikɪŋ sloʊli ʌnd dɪsaɪsɪvli, laɪk ʌ fɑðɜ˞ ɹibjukɪŋ ʌ hɑt hɛdʌd tʃaɪld, "nɑt ʌv ðʌ pɹɛzʌnt.

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"Spies, of course?" "Spies," assented the other. "And what spies! Were you present at the sitting of the Assembly to day?" "I was. I heard the new decree which already has passed into law. Ah! I tell you, friend, that we do not let the grass grow under our feet these days.

"spaɪz, ʌv kɔɹs?" "spaɪz," ðʌ ʌðɜ˞. "ʌnd wʌt spaɪz! wɜ˞ ju pɹɛzʌnt æt ðʌ sɪtɪŋ ʌv ðʌ ʌsɛmbli tu deɪ?" "aɪ wɑz. aɪ hɜ˞d ðʌ nu dɪkɹi wɪtʃ ɔlɹɛdi hæz pæst ɪntu lɔ. ɑ! aɪ tɛl ju, fɹɛnd, ðæt wi du nɑt lɛt ðʌ ɡɹæs ɡɹoʊ ʌndɜ˞ aʊɜ˞ fit ðiz deɪz.

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Danton, who thought the guillotine too slow in its work, and armed thirty soldiers with swords, so that thirty heads might fall at one and the same time.

dæntʌn, hu θɔt ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin tu sloʊ ɪn ɪts wɜ˞k, ʌnd ɑɹmd θɜ˞di soʊldʒɜ˞z wɪð sɔɹdz, soʊ ðæt θɜ˞di hɛdz maɪt fɔl æt wʌn ʌnd ðʌ seɪm taɪm.

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He would wish to stem the tide that his own passions have let loose; to muzzle the raging beasts whose fangs he himself has sharpened. I told you that Danton is still the man of to day; to morrow he will be accused of moderation. Danton and moderation! ye gods! Eh?

hi wʊd wɪʃ tu stɛm ðʌ taɪd ðæt hɪz oʊn pæʃʌnz hæv lɛt lus; tu mʌzʌl ðʌ ɹeɪdʒɪŋ bists huz fæŋz hi hɪmsɛlf hæz ʃɑɹpʌnd. aɪ toʊld ju ðæt dæntʌn ɪz stɪl ðʌ mæn ʌv tu deɪ; tu mɑɹoʊ hi wɪl bi ʌkjuzd ʌv mɑdɜ˞eɪʃʌn. dæntʌn ʌnd mɑdɜ˞eɪʃʌn! ji ɡɑdz! ɛ?

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New fashions in dress made their appearance, milliners produced fresh "creations," and jewellers were not idle. A grim sense of humour, born of the very intensity of ever present danger, had dubbed the cut of certain tunics "tete tranche," or a favourite ragout was called "a la guillotine."

nu fæʃʌnz ɪn dɹɛs meɪd ðɛɹ ʌpɪɹʌns, pɹʌdust fɹɛʃ "kɹieɪʃʌnz," ʌnd dʒuʌlɜ˞z wɜ˞ nɑt aɪdʌl. ʌ ɡɹɪm sɛns ʌv hjumɜ˞, bɔɹn ʌv ðʌ vɛɹi ɪntɛnsʌti ʌv ɛvɜ˞ pɹɛzʌnt deɪndʒɜ˞, hæd dʌbd ðʌ kʌt ʌv sɜ˞tʌn "tɛt tɹæntʃ," ɔɹ ʌ feɪvɜ˞ɪt wɑz kɔld "ʌ lɑ ɡɪlʌtin."

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And Heron is the man next to him." "Heron?" said the younger man interrogatively. "Yes. He is chief agent to the Committee of General Security now." "What does that mean?"

ʌnd hɛɹʌn ɪz ðʌ mæn nɛkst tu hɪm." "hɛɹʌn?" sɛd ðʌ jʌŋɡɜ˞ mæn . "jɛs. hi ɪz tʃif eɪdʒʌnt tu ðʌ kʌmɪti ʌv dʒɛnɜ˞ʌl sɪkjʊɹʌti naʊ." "wʌt dʌz ðæt min?"

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De Batz's keen piercing eyes had no doubt noted this, even whilst he gazed at his young friend with that same look of good humoured indulgence which seemed habitual to him.

di bæts'ɛs kin pɪɹsɪŋ aɪz hæd noʊ daʊt noʊtʌd ðɪs, ivɪn waɪlst hi ɡeɪzd æt hɪz jʌŋ fɹɛnd wɪð ðæt seɪm lʊk ʌv ɡʊd ɪndʌldʒʌns wɪtʃ simd hʌbɪtʃuʌl tu hɪm.

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The other leaned over the edge of the box, and his small, restless eyes wandered over the now closely packed auditorium. "Oh!" he said as soon as he recognised the face which his friend had pointed out to him, "that is citizen Foucquier Tinville." "The Public Prosecutor?" "Himself.

ðʌ ʌðɜ˞ lind oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ ɛdʒ ʌv ðʌ bɑks, ʌnd hɪz smɔl, ɹɛstlʌs aɪz wɑndɜ˞d oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ naʊ kloʊsli pækt ɔdʌtɔɹiʌm. "oʊ!" hi sɛd æz sun æz hi ɹɛkʌɡnaɪzd ðʌ feɪs wɪtʃ hɪz fɹɛnd hæd pɔɪntɪd aʊt tu hɪm, "ðæt ɪz sɪtʌzʌn ." "ðʌ pʌblɪk pɹɑsɪkjutɜ˞?" "hɪmsɛlf.

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"Spies," assented the other. "And what spies! Were you present at the sitting of the Assembly to day?" "I was. I heard the new decree which already has passed into law. Ah! I tell you, friend, that we do not let the grass grow under our feet these days. Robespierre wakes up one morning with a whim; by the afternoon that whim has become law, passed by a servile body of men too terrified to run counter to his will, fearful lest they be accused of moderation or of humanity the greatest crimes that can be committed nowadays."

"spaɪz," ðʌ ʌðɜ˞. "ʌnd wʌt spaɪz! wɜ˞ ju pɹɛzʌnt æt ðʌ sɪtɪŋ ʌv ðʌ ʌsɛmbli tu deɪ?" "aɪ wɑz. aɪ hɜ˞d ðʌ nu dɪkɹi wɪtʃ ɔlɹɛdi hæz pæst ɪntu lɔ. ɑ! aɪ tɛl ju, fɹɛnd, ðæt wi du nɑt lɛt ðʌ ɡɹæs ɡɹoʊ ʌndɜ˞ aʊɜ˞ fit ðiz deɪz. weɪks ʌp wʌn mɔɹnɪŋ wɪð ʌ wɪm; baɪ ðʌ æftɜ˞nun ðæt wɪm hæz bɪkʌm lɔ, pæst baɪ ʌ sɜ˞vʌl bɑdi ʌv mɛn tu tɛɹʌfaɪd tu ɹʌn kaʊntɜ˞ tu hɪz wɪl, fɪɹfʌl lɛst ðeɪ bi ʌkjuzd ʌv mɑdɜ˞eɪʃʌn ɔɹ ʌv hjumænɪti ðʌ ɡɹeɪtʌst kɹaɪmz ðæt kæn bi kʌmɪtɪd naʊʌdeɪz."

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Marat is already the man of yesterday, Robespierre is the man of to morrow. To day we still have Danton and Foucquier Tinville; we still have Pere Duchesne, and your own good cousin Antoine St. Just, but Heron and his like are with us always."

ɪz ɔlɹɛdi ðʌ mæn ʌv jɛstɜ˞deɪ, ɪz ðʌ mæn ʌv tu mɑɹoʊ. tu deɪ wi stɪl hæv dæntʌn ʌnd ; wi stɪl hæv pɜ˞ , ʌnd jɔɹ oʊn ɡʊd kʌzʌn ɑntwɑn stɹit. dʒʌst, bʌt hɛɹʌn ʌnd hɪz laɪk ɑɹ wɪð ʌs ɔlweɪz."

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Both leaned back in their chairs, and their sombrely clad figures were once more merged in the gloom of the narrow box. Instinctively, since the name of the Public Prosecutor had been mentioned between them, they had allowed their voices to sink to a whisper.

boʊθ lind bæk ɪn ðɛɹ tʃɛɹz, ʌnd ðɛɹ klæd fɪɡjɜ˞z wɜ˞ wʌns mɔɹ mɜ˞dʒd ɪn ðʌ ɡlum ʌv ðʌ nɛɹoʊ bɑks. ɪnstɪŋktɪvli, sɪns ðʌ neɪm ʌv ðʌ pʌblɪk pɹɑsɪkjutɜ˞ hæd bɪn mɛnʃʌnd bɪtwin ðɛm, ðeɪ hæd ʌlaʊd ðɛɹ vɔɪsʌz tu sɪŋk tu ʌ wɪspɜ˞.

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"The other?" retorted de Batz lightly. "Heron? Let me tell you, my friend, that even the might and lust of that damned Public Prosecutor pale before the power of Heron!" "But how? I do not understand."

"ðʌ ʌðɜ˞?" ɹitɔɹtɪd di bæts laɪtli. "hɛɹʌn? lɛt mi tɛl ju, maɪ fɹɛnd, ðæt ivɪn ðʌ maɪt ʌnd lʌst ʌv ðæt dæmd pʌblɪk pɹɑsɪkjutɜ˞ peɪl bɪfɔɹ ðʌ paʊɜ˞ ʌv hɛɹʌn!" "bʌt haʊ? aɪ du nɑt ʌndɜ˞stænd."

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Already the house was full when the fathers of the people made their way to the seats which had been reserved for them. An awed hush descended on the throng as one by one the men whose very names inspired horror and dread filed in through the narrow gangways of the stalls or took their places in the tiny boxes around.

ɔlɹɛdi ðʌ haʊs wɑz fʊl wɛn ðʌ fɑðɜ˞z ʌv ðʌ pipʌl meɪd ðɛɹ weɪ tu ðʌ sits wɪtʃ hæd bɪn ɹɪzɜ˞vd fɔɹ ðɛm. æn ɔd hʌʃ dɪsɛndʌd ɑn ðʌ θɹɔŋ æz wʌn baɪ wʌn ðʌ mɛn huz vɛɹi neɪmz ɪnspaɪɜ˞d hɔɹɜ˞ ʌnd dɹɛd faɪld ɪn θɹu ðʌ nɛɹoʊ ʌv ðʌ stɔlz ɔɹ tʊk ðɛɹ pleɪsʌz ɪn ðʌ taɪni bɑksʌz ɜ˞aʊnd.

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if Heron and his like and his myrmidons work hard and well they can make a comfortable income of four or five thousand livres a week. We are getting on, friend St. Just we are getting on."

ɪf hɛɹʌn ʌnd hɪz laɪk ʌnd hɪz mɜ˞mɪdɪnz wɜ˞k hɑɹd ʌnd wɛl ðeɪ kæn meɪk ʌ kʌmfɜ˞tʌbʌl ɪnkʌm ʌv fɔɹ ɔɹ faɪv θaʊzʌnd ʌ wik. wi ɑɹ ɡɛtɪŋ ɑn, fɹɛnd stɹit. dʒʌst wi ɑɹ ɡɛtɪŋ ɑn."

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The Moniteur, which so impartially chronicles the events of those times, tells us under that date that the Assembly of the Convention voted on that same day a new law giving fuller power to its spies, enabling them to effect domiciliary searches at their discretion without previous reference to the Committee of General Security, authorising them to proceed against all enemies of public happiness, to send them to prison at their own discretion, and assuring them the sum of thirty five livres "for every piece of game thus beaten up for the guillotine."

ðʌ , wɪtʃ soʊ ɪmpɑɹʃʌli kɹɑnɪkʌlz ðʌ ɪvɛnts ʌv ðoʊz taɪmz, tɛlz ʌs ʌndɜ˞ ðæt deɪt ðæt ðʌ ʌsɛmbli ʌv ðʌ kʌnvɛnʃʌn voʊtɪd ɑn ðæt seɪm deɪ ʌ nu lɔ ɡɪvɪŋ fʊlɜ˞ paʊɜ˞ tu ɪts spaɪz, ɛneɪbʌlɪŋ ðɛm tu ɪfɛkt sɜ˞tʃɪz æt ðɛɹ dɪskɹɛʃʌn wɪθaʊt pɹiviʌs ɹɛfɜ˞ʌns tu ðʌ kʌmɪti ʌv dʒɛnɜ˞ʌl sɪkjʊɹʌti, ðɛm tu pɹʌsid ʌɡɛnst ɔl ɛnʌmiz ʌv pʌblɪk hæpinʌs, tu sɛnd ðɛm tu pɹɪzʌn æt ðɛɹ oʊn dɪskɹɛʃʌn, ʌnd ʌʃʊɹɪŋ ðɛm ðʌ sʌm ʌv θɜ˞di faɪv "fɔɹ ɛvɜ˞i pis ʌv ɡeɪm ðʌs bitʌn ʌp fɔɹ ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin."

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"Ah! you have been in England so long, you lucky dog, and though no doubt the main plot of our hideous tragedy has reached your ken, you have no cognisance of the actors who play the principal parts on this arena flooded with blood and carpeted with hate. They come and go, these actors, my good St. Just they come and go.

"ɑ! ju hæv bɪn ɪn ɪŋɡlʌnd soʊ lɔŋ, ju lʌki dɔɡ, ʌnd ðoʊ noʊ daʊt ðʌ meɪn plɑt ʌv aʊɜ˞ hɪdiʌs tɹædʒʌdi hæz ɹitʃt jɔɹ kɛn, ju hæv noʊ ʌv ðʌ æktɜ˞z hu pleɪ ðʌ pɹɪnsʌpʌl pɑɹts ɑn ðɪs ɜ˞inʌ flʌdʌd wɪð blʌd ʌnd kɑɹpʌtɪd wɪð heɪt. ðeɪ kʌm ʌnd ɡoʊ, ðiz æktɜ˞z, maɪ ɡʊd stɹit. dʒʌst ðeɪ kʌm ʌnd ɡoʊ.

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On all other evenings of these same four and a half years the theatres in the Rue de Richelieu, in the Palais Royal, the Luxembourg, and others, had raised their curtains and taken money at their doors.

ɑn ɔl ʌðɜ˞ ivnɪŋz ʌv ðiz seɪm fɔɹ ʌnd ʌ hæf jɪɹz ðʌ θiʌtɜ˞z ɪn ðʌ ɹu di ɹɪʃʌlu, ɪn ðʌ pʌleɪ ɹɔɪʌl, ðʌ lʌksʌmbɔɹɡ, ʌnd ʌðɜ˞z, hæd ɹeɪzd ðɛɹ kɜ˞tʌnz ʌnd teɪkʌn mʌni æt ðɛɹ dɔɹz.

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The Assembly of the Convention having voted the new law which placed the lives of thousands at the mercy of a few human bloodhounds, adjourned its sitting and proceeded to the Rue de Richelieu.

ðʌ ʌsɛmbli ʌv ðʌ kʌnvɛnʃʌn hævɪŋ voʊtɪd ðʌ nu lɔ wɪtʃ pleɪst ðʌ lɪvz ʌv θaʊzʌndz æt ðʌ mɜ˞si ʌv ʌ fju hjumʌn blʌdhaʊndz, ʌdʒɜ˞nd ɪts sɪtɪŋ ʌnd pɹʌsidɪd tu ðʌ ɹu di ɹɪʃʌlu.

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"Then from this hell let loose upon earth," exclaimed St. Just hotly, "must we rescue those who refuse to ride upon this tide of blood."

"ðɛn fɹʌm ðɪs hɛl lɛt lus ʌpɑn ɜ˞θ," ɪkskleɪmd stɹit. dʒʌst hɑtli, "mʌst wi ɹɛskju ðoʊz hu ɹʌfjuz tu ɹaɪd ʌpɑn ðɪs taɪd ʌv blʌd."

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Under that same date the Moniteur also puts it on record that the Theatre National was filled to its utmost capacity for the revival of the late citoyen Moliere's comedy.

ʌndɜ˞ ðæt seɪm deɪt ðʌ ɔlsoʊ pʊts ɪt ɑn ɹʌkɔɹd ðæt ðʌ θiʌtɜ˞ næʃʌnʌl wɑz fɪld tu ɪts ʌtmoʊst kʌpæsʌti fɔɹ ðʌ ɹɪvaɪvʌl ʌv ðʌ leɪt moʊljɛɹ'ɛs kɑmʌdi.

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In one of the tiny avant scene boxes two men had taken their seats long before the bulk of the audience had begun to assemble in the house. The inside of the box was in complete darkness, and the narrow opening which allowed but a sorry view of one side of the stage helped to conceal rather than display the occupants. The younger one of these two men appeared to be something of a stranger in Paris, for as the public men and the well known members of the Government began to arrive he often turned to his companion for information regarding these notorious personalities.

ɪn wʌn ʌv ðʌ taɪni ʌvɑnt sin bɑksʌz tu mɛn hæd teɪkʌn ðɛɹ sits lɔŋ bɪfɔɹ ðʌ bʌlk ʌv ðʌ ɑdiʌns hæd bɪɡʌn tu ʌsɛmbʌl ɪn ðʌ haʊs. ðʌ ɪnsaɪd ʌv ðʌ bɑks wɑz ɪn kʌmplit dɑɹknʌs, ʌnd ðʌ nɛɹoʊ oʊpʌnɪŋ wɪtʃ ʌlaʊd bʌt ʌ sɑɹi vju ʌv wʌn saɪd ʌv ðʌ steɪdʒ hɛlpt tu kʌnsil ɹæðɜ˞ ðæn dɪspleɪ ðʌ ɑkjʌpʌnts. ðʌ jʌŋɡɜ˞ wʌn ʌv ðiz tu mɛn ʌpɪɹd tu bi sʌmθɪŋ ʌv ʌ stɹeɪndʒɜ˞ ɪn pɛɹɪs, fɔɹ æz ðʌ pʌblɪk mɛn ʌnd ðʌ wɛl noʊn mɛmbɜ˞z ʌv ðʌ ɡʌvɜ˞mʌnt bɪɡæn tu ɜ˞aɪv hi ɔfʌn tɜ˞nd tu hɪz kʌmpænjʌn fɔɹ ɪnfɜ˞meɪʃʌn ɹɪɡɑɹdɪŋ ðiz noʊtɔɹiʌs pɜ˞sʌnælɪtiz.

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He may be a bad example to the public by the cleanliness of his person or by the filth upon his clothes, he may offend by walking to day and by riding in a carriage next week; the agents of the Committee of General Security shall alone decide what constitutes enmity against public welfare.

hi meɪ bi ʌ bæd ɪɡzæmpʌl tu ðʌ pʌblɪk baɪ ðʌ klɛnlinɪs ʌv hɪz pɜ˞sʌn ɔɹ baɪ ðʌ fɪlθ ʌpɑn hɪz kloʊðz, hi meɪ ʌfɛnd baɪ wɔkɪŋ tu deɪ ʌnd baɪ ɹaɪdɪŋ ɪn ʌ kæɹɪdʒ nɛkst wik; ðʌ eɪdʒʌnts ʌv ðʌ kʌmɪti ʌv dʒɛnɜ˞ʌl sɪkjʊɹʌti ʃæl ʌloʊn dɪsaɪd wʌt kɑnstʌtuts ɛnmʌti ʌɡɛnst pʌblɪk wɛlfɛɹ.

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The appearance of a favourite actress in the part of one of Moliere's volatile heroines had brought pleasure loving Paris to witness this revival of "Le Misanthrope," with new scenery, dresses, and the aforesaid charming actress to add piquancy to the master's mordant wit.

ðʌ ʌpɪɹʌns ʌv ʌ feɪvɜ˞ɪt æktɹʌs ɪn ðʌ pɑɹt ʌv wʌn ʌv moʊljɛɹ'ɛs vɑlʌtʌl hɛɹoʊʌnz hæd bɹɔt plɛʒɜ˞ lʌvɪŋ pɛɹɪs tu wɪtnʌs ðɪs ɹɪvaɪvʌl ʌv "lʌ mɪsʌnθɹoʊp," wɪð nu sinɜ˞i, dɹɛsʌz, ʌnd ðʌ ʌfɔɹsɛd tʃɑɹmɪŋ æktɹʌs tu æd tu ðʌ mæstɜ˞'ɛs mɔɹdʌnt wɪt.

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"Tell me, de Batz," he said, calling the other's attention to a group of men who had just entered the house, "that creature there in the green coat with his hand up to his face now who is he?" "Where? Which do you mean?"

"tɛl mi, di bæts," hi sɛd, kɔlɪŋ ðʌ ʌðɜ˞'ɛs ʌtɛnʃʌn tu ʌ ɡɹup ʌv mɛn hu hæd dʒʌst ɛntɜ˞d ðʌ haʊs, "ðæt kɹitʃɜ˞ ðɛɹ ɪn ðʌ ɡɹin koʊt wɪð hɪz hænd ʌp tu hɪz feɪs naʊ hu ɪz hi?" "wɛɹ? wɪtʃ du ju min?"

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The same audience that earlier in the day had whiled away the time by witnessing the ever recurrent dramas of the Place de la Revolution assembled here in the evenings and filled stalls, boxes, and tiers, laughing over the satires of Voltaire or weeping over the sentimental tragedies of persecuted Romeos and innocent Juliets.

ðʌ seɪm ɑdiʌns ðæt ɜ˞liɜ˞ ɪn ðʌ deɪ hæd ʌweɪ ðʌ taɪm baɪ wɪtnʌsɪŋ ðʌ ɛvɜ˞ ɹɪkɜ˞ʌnt dɹɑmʌz ʌv ðʌ pleɪs di lɑ ɹɛvʌluʃʌn ʌsɛmbʌld hiɹ ɪn ðʌ ivnɪŋz ʌnd fɪld stɔlz, bɑksʌz, ʌnd tiɹz, læfɪŋ oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ sætaɪɜ˞z ʌv voʊltɛɹ ɔɹ wipɪŋ oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ sɛntʌmɛntʌl tɹædʒʌdiz ʌv pɜ˞sʌkjutɪd ɹoʊmioʊz ʌnd ɪnʌsʌnt .

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We are getting on, friend St. Just we are getting on." He had not raised his voice while he spoke, nor in the recounting of such inhuman monstrosity, such vile and bloodthirsty conspiracy against the liberty, the dignity, the very life of an entire nation, did he appear to feel the slightest indignation; rather did a tone of amusement and even of triumph strike through his speech; and now he laughed good humouredly like an indulgent parent who is watching the naturally cruel antics of a spoilt boy.

wi ɑɹ ɡɛtɪŋ ɑn, fɹɛnd stɹit. dʒʌst wi ɑɹ ɡɛtɪŋ ɑn." hi hæd nɑt ɹeɪzd hɪz vɔɪs waɪl hi spoʊk, nɔɹ ɪn ðʌ ɹɪkaʊntɪŋ ʌv sʌtʃ ɪnhjumʌn mɑnstɹɑsʌti, sʌtʃ vaɪl ʌnd blʌdθɜ˞sti kʌnspɪɹʌsi ʌɡɛnst ðʌ lɪbɜ˞ti, ðʌ dɪɡnʌti, ðʌ vɛɹi laɪf ʌv æn ɪntaɪɜ˞ neɪʃʌn, dɪd hi ʌpɪɹ tu fil ðʌ slaɪtʌst ɪndɪɡneɪʃʌn; ɹæðɜ˞ dɪd ʌ toʊn ʌv ʌmjuzmʌnt ʌnd ivɪn ʌv tɹaɪʌmf stɹaɪk θɹu hɪz spitʃ; ʌnd naʊ hi læft ɡʊd laɪk æn ɪndʌldʒʌnt pɛɹʌnt hu ɪz wɑtʃɪŋ ðʌ nætʃɜ˞ʌli kɹuʌl æntɪks ʌv ʌ bɔɪ.

wav/EN_F00000_B00000_S00001_W000085.wav

Danton, who thought the guillotine too slow in its work, and armed thirty soldiers with swords, so that thirty heads might fall at one and the same time. Danton, friend, will perish to morrow accused of treachery against the Revolution, of moderation towards her enemies; and curs like Heron will feast on the blood of lions like Danton and his crowd."

dæntʌn, hu θɔt ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin tu sloʊ ɪn ɪts wɜ˞k, ʌnd ɑɹmd θɜ˞di soʊldʒɜ˞z wɪð sɔɹdz, soʊ ðæt θɜ˞di hɛdz maɪt fɔl æt wʌn ʌnd ðʌ seɪm taɪm. dæntʌn, fɹɛnd, wɪl pɛɹɪʃ tu mɑɹoʊ ʌkjuzd ʌv tɹɛtʃɜ˞i ʌɡɛnst ðʌ ɹɛvʌluʃʌn, ʌv mɑdɜ˞eɪʃʌn tʌwɔɹdz hɜ˞ ɛnʌmiz; ʌnd laɪk hɛɹʌn wɪl fist ɑn ðʌ blʌd ʌv laɪʌnz laɪk dæntʌn ʌnd hɪz kɹaʊd."

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"But Danton?" "Ah! Danton?

"bʌt dæntʌn?" "ɑ! dæntʌn?

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Citizen Robespierre's neatly bewigged head soon appeared in one of these; his bosom friend St. Just was with him, and also his sister Charlotte.

sɪtʌzʌn 'ɛs nitli hɛd sun ʌpɪɹd ɪn wʌn ʌv ðiz; hɪz bʊzʌm fɹɛnd stɹit. dʒʌst wɑz wɪð hɪm, ʌnd ɔlsoʊ hɪz sɪstɜ˞ ʃɑɹlʌt.

wav/EN_F00000_B00000_S00001_W000088.wav

De Batz, with a gesture of contempt indicative also of complete self satisfaction and unalterable self belief, shrugged his broad shoulders. His short fat fingers, covered with rings, beat a tattoo upon the ledge of the box.

di bæts, wɪð ʌ dʒɛstʃɜ˞ ʌv kʌntɛmpt ɪndɪkʌtɪv ɔlsoʊ ʌv kʌmplit sɛlf sætʌsfækʃʌn ʌnd ʌnɔltɜ˞ʌbʌl sɛlf bɪlif, ʃɹʌɡd hɪz bɹɔd ʃoʊldɜ˞z. hɪz ʃɔɹt fæt fɪŋɡɜ˞z, kʌvɜ˞d wɪð ɹɪŋz, bit ʌ tætu ʌpɑn ðʌ lɛdʒ ʌv ðʌ bɑks.

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Women craned their necks to catch sight of heads which mayhap on the morrow would roll into the gruesome basket at the foot of the guillotine.

wɪmʌn kɹeɪnd ðɛɹ nɛks tu kætʃ saɪt ʌv hɛdz wɪtʃ ɑn ðʌ mɑɹoʊ wʊd ɹoʊl ɪntu ðʌ ɡɹusʌm bæskʌt æt ðʌ fʊt ʌv ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin.

wav/EN_F00000_B00000_S00001_W000090.wav

His short fat fingers, covered with rings, beat a tattoo upon the ledge of the box. Obviously, he was ready with a retort. His young friend's attitude irritated even more than it amused him. But he said nothing for the moment, waiting while the traditional three knocks on the floor of the stage proclaimed the rise of the curtain.

hɪz ʃɔɹt fæt fɪŋɡɜ˞z, kʌvɜ˞d wɪð ɹɪŋz, bit ʌ tætu ʌpɑn ðʌ lɛdʒ ʌv ðʌ bɑks. ɑbviʌsli, hi wɑz ɹɛdi wɪð ʌ ɹitɔɹt. hɪz jʌŋ fɹɛnd'ɛs ætʌtud ɪɹʌteɪtʌd ivɪn mɔɹ ðæn ɪt ʌmjuzd hɪm. bʌt hi sɛd nʌθɪŋ fɔɹ ðʌ moʊmʌnt, weɪtɪŋ waɪl ðʌ tɹʌdɪʃʌnʌl θɹi nɑks ɑn ðʌ flɔɹ ʌv ðʌ steɪdʒ pɹoʊkleɪmd ðʌ ɹaɪz ʌv ðʌ kɜ˞tʌn.

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"Always Heron!" said St. Just, with a contemptuous smile. "Yes, my friend," rejoined the other imperturbably, "always Heron. And he has even obtained a longer lease of existence this afternoon." "By the new decree?" "Yes.

"ɔlweɪz hɛɹʌn!" sɛd stɹit. dʒʌst, wɪð ʌ kʌntɛmptʃuʌs smaɪl. "jɛs, maɪ fɹɛnd," ɹidʒɔɪnd ðʌ ʌðɜ˞ , "ɔlweɪz hɛɹʌn. ʌnd hi hæz ivɪn ʌbteɪnd ʌ lɔŋɡɜ˞ lis ʌv ɛɡzɪstʌns ðɪs æftɜ˞nun." "baɪ ðʌ nu dɪkɹi?" "jɛs.

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And they have absolute discretion; every one may become an enemy of public welfare, either by spending too much money or by spending too little, by laughing to day or crying to morrow, by mourning for one dead relative or rejoicing over the execution of another.

ʌnd ðeɪ hæv æbsʌlut dɪskɹɛʃʌn; ɛvɜ˞i wʌn meɪ bɪkʌm æn ɛnʌmi ʌv pʌblɪk wɛlfɛɹ, iðɜ˞ baɪ spɛndɪŋ tu mʌtʃ mʌni ɔɹ baɪ spɛndɪŋ tu lɪtʌl, baɪ læfɪŋ tu deɪ ɔɹ kɹaɪɪŋ tu mɑɹoʊ, baɪ mɔɹnɪŋ fɔɹ wʌn dɛd ɹɛlʌtɪv ɔɹ ɹɪdʒɔɪsɪŋ oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ ɛksʌkjuʃʌn ʌv ʌnʌðɜ˞.

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The public in the parterre and in the galleries whispered excitedly; the awe inspiring names flew about hither and thither on the wings of the overheated air. Women craned their necks to catch sight of heads which mayhap on the morrow would roll into the gruesome basket at the foot of the guillotine.

ðʌ pʌblɪk ɪn ðʌ ʌnd ɪn ðʌ ɡælɜ˞iz wɪspɜ˞d ɪksaɪtʌdli; ðʌ ɑ ɪnspaɪɹɪŋ neɪmz flu ʌbaʊt hɪðɜ˞ ʌnd ðɪθɜ˞ ɑn ðʌ wɪŋz ʌv ðʌ oʊvɜ˞hitɪd ɛɹ. wɪmʌn kɹeɪnd ðɛɹ nɛks tu kætʃ saɪt ʌv hɛdz wɪtʃ ɑn ðʌ mɑɹoʊ wʊd ɹoʊl ɪntu ðʌ ɡɹusʌm bæskʌt æt ðʌ fʊt ʌv ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin.

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There was loud stamping of feet, and a few shrill whistles of disapproval proceeded from the gallery.

ðɛɹ wɑz laʊd stæmpɪŋ ʌv fit, ʌnd ʌ fju ʃɹɪl wɪsʌlz ʌv dɪsʌpɹuvʌl pɹʌsidɪd fɹʌm ðʌ ɡælɜ˞i.

wav/EN_F00000_B00000_S00001_W000095.wav

Thus is the decree worded; they must furnish the Public Prosecutor with work to do, the tribunals with victims to condemn, the Place de la Revolution with death scenes to amuse the people, and for their work they will be rewarded thirty five livres for every head that falls under the guillotine Ah!

ðʌs ɪz ðʌ dɪkɹi wɜ˞dɪd; ðeɪ mʌst fɜ˞nɪʃ ðʌ pʌblɪk pɹɑsɪkjutɜ˞ wɪð wɜ˞k tu du, ðʌ tɹaɪbjunʌlz wɪð vɪktʌmz tu kʌndɛm, ðʌ pleɪs di lɑ ɹɛvʌluʃʌn wɪð dɛθ sinz tu ʌmjuz ðʌ pipʌl, ʌnd fɔɹ ðɛɹ wɜ˞k ðeɪ wɪl bi ɹɪwɔɹdɪd θɜ˞di faɪv fɔɹ ɛvɜ˞i hɛd ðæt fɔlz ʌndɜ˞ ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin ɑ!

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Once the nation is sickened by these orgies of ambition and of hate, it will turn against these savage brutes, and gladly acclaim the restoration of all that they are striving to destroy.

wʌns ðʌ neɪʃʌn ɪz sɪkʌnd baɪ ðiz ɔɹdʒiz ʌv æmbɪʃʌn ʌnd ʌv heɪt, ɪt wɪl tɜ˞n ʌɡɛnst ðiz sævʌdʒ , ʌnd ɡlædli ʌkleɪm ðʌ ɹɛstɜ˞eɪʃʌn ʌv ɔl ðæt ðeɪ ɑɹ stɹaɪvɪŋ tu dɪstɹɔɪ.

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All prisons are to be opened at their bidding to receive those whom they choose to denounce; they have henceforth the right to examine prisoners privately and without witnesses, and to send them to trial without further warrants; their duty is clear they must 'beat up game for the guillotine.

ɔl pɹɪzʌnz ɑɹ tu bi oʊpʌnd æt ðɛɹ bɪdɪŋ tu ɹʌsiv ðoʊz hum ðeɪ tʃuz tu dɪnaʊns; ðeɪ hæv hɛnsfɔɹθ ðʌ ɹaɪt tu ɪɡzæmɪn pɹɪzʌnɜ˞z pɹaɪvʌtli ʌnd wɪθaʊt wɪtnʌsʌz, ʌnd tu sɛnd ðɛm tu tɹaɪʌl wɪθaʊt fɜ˞ðɜ˞ wɔɹʌnts; ðɛɹ duti ɪz klɪɹ ðeɪ mʌst 'bit ʌp ɡeɪm fɔɹ ðʌ ɡɪlʌtin.

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It is only through these violent excesses perpetrated in its name that the nation will realise how it is being fooled by a set of men who have only their own power and their own advancement in view, and who imagine that the only way to that power is over the dead bodies of those who stand in their way.

ɪt ɪz oʊnli θɹu ðiz vaɪʌlʌnt ɛksɛsɪz pɜ˞pʌtɹeɪtɪd ɪn ɪts neɪm ðæt ðʌ neɪʃʌn wɪl ɹiʌlaɪz haʊ ɪt ɪz biɪŋ fuld baɪ ʌ sɛt ʌv mɛn hu hæv oʊnli ðɛɹ oʊn paʊɜ˞ ʌnd ðɛɹ oʊn ʌdvænsmʌnt ɪn vju, ʌnd hu ɪmædʒʌn ðæt ðʌ oʊnli weɪ tu ðæt paʊɜ˞ ɪz oʊvɜ˞ ðʌ dɛd bɑdiz ʌv ðoʊz hu stænd ɪn ðɛɹ weɪ.

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He paused a moment, for he dared not raise his voice, and his whispers were being drowned by the noise in the auditorium. The curtain, timed to be raised at eight o'clock, was still down, though it was close on half past, and the public was growing impatient. There was loud stamping of feet, and a few shrill whistles of disapproval proceeded from the gallery.

hi pɔzd ʌ moʊmʌnt, fɔɹ hi dɛɹd nɑt ɹeɪz hɪz vɔɪs, ʌnd hɪz wɪspɜ˞z wɜ˞ biɪŋ dɹaʊnd baɪ ðʌ nɔɪz ɪn ðʌ ɔdʌtɔɹiʌm. ðʌ kɜ˞tʌn, taɪmd tu bi ɹeɪzd æt eɪt oʊ'klɑk, wɑz stɪl daʊn, ðoʊ ɪt wɑz kloʊs ɑn hæf pæst, ʌnd ðʌ pʌblɪk wɑz ɡɹoʊɪŋ ɪmpeɪʃʌnt. ðɛɹ wɑz laʊd stæmpɪŋ ʌv fit, ʌnd ʌ fju ʃɹɪl wɪsʌlz ʌv dɪsʌpɹuvʌl pɹʌsidɪd fɹʌm ðʌ ɡælɜ˞i.