Ch’est mus d’êt’ un vilain qu’d’êt’ vilanné
quand, l’cas contraithe, tout coumme né v’là l’avis,
et nou-s’a l’èrnommée du ji sans jouer,
pon s’lon san vouler mais s’lon lus vil’lie.
Pouortchi m’gêner si d’s aut’s m’èrgardent d’travèrs,
offrant à m’n esprit lus salutâtions,
lanchant à mes fouaiblièches lus faillis ièrs,
asseûthant du ma pouor chein tchi m’est bouôn?
Nou-fait, j’sis chein qué j’sis, et ches apèrts
tchi mithent à mes maûfaits ont l’adèrt faux.
J’sis drait coumme un pitchet; ieux, hors d’êtchèrre,
et touos lus mauvais d’vis n’valent pon mes d’fauts.
Autant dithe qué chu ma est génétha:
touos l’s hoummes sont mauvais, et l’ma – lus êtat.

‘Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
When not to be receives reproach of being;
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing:
For why should others’ false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own:
I may be straight though they themselves be bevel;
By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown;
Unless this general evil they maintain,
All men are bad and in their badness reign.