ANTIPHOLUS
Thou seemest to be in a rush, Dromio.
Why dost thou run so fast? Where dost thou go?

DROMIO
I am an ass.
An ass am I.
A woman has claimed me, and made me cry.
She works in the kitchen – she’s oozy and greasy.
To turn her into a lamp would be easy.
Her clothes and the body inside would burn stronger
Than a Flaming Floo-Flibber can burn – and longer!

ANTIPHOLUS
And what of her face?

DROMIO
It’s a filthy disgrace.
My shoe leather’s cleaner, and nicer to smell;
The sweat and the grime are as deep as a well.

ANTIPHOLUS
Some water and soap will mend that in a trice.

DROMIO
No, sir, ‘tis ingrained; Noah’s flood won’t suffice.

ANTIPHOLUS
Her name, pray tell?

DROMIO
She calls herself Nell.
But an ell and three quarters, that’s one meter wide,
Would not reach half the way from her near to far side.

ANTIPHOLUS
So she’s rather full-bodied, to say the thing nicely?

DROMIO
As big as a house, to put it precisely.
You could make twenty circus tents out of her robe.
She’s more round than tall, like a big sweaty globe.

ANTIPHOLUS
On this globe, where is Ireland, green as a frog?

DROMIO
In her buttocks – I found it out by the bogs.

ANTIPHOLUS
What about Scotland? Where does that stand?

DROMIO
Look in the barren, hard palm of her hand.

ANTIPHOLUS
And where does the kingdom of sunny Spain lie?

DROMIO
Felt, but not seen, on her breath, hot and dry.

ANTIPHOLUS
America, the Indies, now where found you those?

DROMIO
Oh, rubies and carbuncles! All over her nose!

ANTIPHOLUS
Where stood the Netherlands, sir, do you know?

DROMIO
Oh, sir, I did not dare to look quite so low!

Original - A Comedy of Errors, III.ii

Lady Macbeth
The king has finished dinner, punkin.
Now’s the time to do in Duncan!

Macbeth
My dear, I think we go too far –
He’s honored me, I’m a big, big star!
I do not want to kill the king.
I will not do this bad, bad thing!

Lady Macbeth
Have you been drinking too much beer?
Or is your love for me insincere?

Macbeth
I have not been drinking beer.
My love for you is quite sincere.
I do not want to kill the king.
I will not do this bad, bad thing!

Lady Macbeth
But it was you who hatched this plan –
If you quit you’re not a man!

Macbeth
I wish I had not hatched this plan.
I need no proof that I’m a man!
I have not been drinking beer.
My love for you is quite sincere.
I do not want to kill the king.
I will not do this bad, bad thing!

Lady Macbeth
Let me make a small suggestion
To ease your moral indigestion.
Once the king’s gone to his bunk
We’ll get his guards completely drunk.
We’ll use their knives to kill him dead,
Then blame the passed-out guards instead!
Who’ll dare show us their disbelief,
When we will roar and cry our grief?

Macbeth
Zounds!
I believe I’ll kill the king!
I will! I’ll do this bad, bad thing!
I’m happy that I hatched this plan!
I’ll prove to you that I’m a man!
I will go and drink some beer,
Then show you that my love’s sincere!
Let’s go – he won’t suspect a thing.
Tonight we’re going to kill the king!

You sorta have to take each stanza individually; I ended up with 2 different rhythm schemes, alternating each stanza. Hope it worked.

R:
What is that light, that bright white light,
That brilliant glimmer in night?
Hot as the sun, it's her, I'll bet --
The babe that they call "Juliette".

Foxy, moxie, hot-or-not-sy
Let me get a better look-see.
Eight? No. Nine? No. She's a Ten, yo.
Must peek closer, from the shadows.

Look at those eyes, they glow like stars --
(And get a load of that nice arse!)
Her dove-soft hand upon her cheek;
I feel my knees are getting weak!

J:
My name, your name, her name, his name,
"Montague": that's such a sad shame.
Change your nick; disown your crowd --
And then our love won't be dis'llowed.

Why can't our dads see eye to eye?
Name, shame, blame, maim, why, cry, die {*sigh*}
Fie, Capulet! Fie, Montague!
These silly names; what can we do?

What's a rose? it's just a flower,
Names are not a source of power.
Rending, pending, fate unbending;
Love for you may be my ending.

Thou art more art than tart, beauty than fruity,
Inspire to the fire, a treat double duty.

You coo, love boons, and I promptly swoon,
The part of my heart you fill up leaves no room.

You're no ordinary, your back is not hairy,
Your eyes strike thrice, which is nice but not scary.

On to the matter of heart's pitter patter:
In your voice I rejoice whether singing or chatter.

The clock, it tick tocks, my heart it a'stops,
so bereft that you've left, flips up and down flops.

My hope to elope has heightened delight
That might ripen when my bride, such a sight,
Sings as her ring brings an answer outright,
Of whother to bother with booking a flight,
My hope how it gropes, will you marry me? Tonight!

"Is that a dagger I see?"
thought Little Man Ham.
"The handle toward my
little right hand?"

"I'll take it now...
but I cannot!
I see it there,
but there it's not!"

"Is it something that's real,
like something you'd find
under a bush, over the sea;
or is it in my mind?"

"It could be the brain
in my head, I suppose
Or my eyes playing games
with what's under my nose."

"It's only a dream,
I certainly hope
This pointy thing
could kill some poor dope!"

"And now I know you
know what I'm thinkin'
Oh the places you'll go,
dear Duncan!"

Oh, truly what a magnificent scene
I spy involving my fairy queen
For a potion has caused her to fall
Into romance with a mere mortal

And to add to this odd situation,
The object of her forced infatuation
Is Bottom, a well-noted bumbling fool
Whose head I've changed to look like a mule
(Well, a mule’s cousin that starts with “a”,
But I shall tread no dangerous ground today)

Oh, to watch her kiss that muzzle
Oh, when she gives that fur a nuzzle
Oh, note the love as she scratches those long ears
Oh, I laugh so hard I am brought to tears

And whom am I, you might well inquire
Relating the glow of this love’s fire?
Lo, I am known as Puck to a few
And for now I shall bid you adieu
But you can trust one thing, my friend,
This satyr’s part shall come at the end.

JULIET: O Romeo! Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Are you hiding hither or thither? Are you hiding in the river? Are you hiding in a tree? O Romeo! Romeo! I can't find thee!

ROMEO: Shall I hear more, or shall I speak? Should I be bold, or should I be meek? Shall I talk or shall I yak? Maybe I'll just wait for her to yell back...

JULIET: What's in a name, Romeo? Why can't thou just be a lame so-'n-so? A rose by another name; say 'Ed' or 'Howard', would still smell as sweet as when it originally flowered!

ROMEO: Call me but love, Juliet; You don’t believe me? You wanna Bet? I take thee at thy word, y'know: henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Antony
Friends, Wockets, countrymen, listen to me;
I come to talk of Caesar’s finale.
Evil that men make lasts a while,
Though the good does not compile.
Brutus said Caesar was ambitious,
But Brutus is just pompous.
Brutus is an honorable man,
And I certainly am a fan,
But when Brutus said Caesar was ambitious,
Brutus was being pompous.
Caesar was offered the crown thrice,
And he still was not king, how is this a vice?
Yet ambition is still what Brutus says of him,
But Caesar was the victim.
I dare not disprove of what Brutus spoke,
But I must speak on behalf of my favorite bloke.
You all used to love Caesar too,
So why don’t you spare him a ‘boo-hoo’?
O judgement, have you fled from here?
Bare with me, I find this event austere,
My heart is with Caesar, six feet under,
But I must pause to collect my temper.

First Plebian
He has a point you know.

Second Plebian
I share greatly in his sorrow.

Antony
I have his will for you to see,
But it would not be honorable of me,
For the murders of Caesar were good men indeed,
Despite how they have made Caesar bleed.

First Plebian
You will read it from your stand,
But you will not make it bland.

Antony
He has given all citizens land and money,
For your support was sweeter than honey.

Second Plebian
To think that we supported Brutus,
Now we know Caesar cared for us.

Plebeians
We shall mutiny!
We cannot bare this ignominy!
We go forth to complete this chore,
To pay back those who killed the man we adore!

Antony
Mischief, achieve your will,
Take whatever course, be it good or ill.

King Lear said, "Give me the map, Kent,
I’m old and my time as king is spent."

"I have a question to ask
Before my kingdom I divide:
Which daughter of the three
has the most love for me?

Goneril, you are the oldest.
Prove that you love me the most
Before I eat this buttered toast."

"Sir!" Goneril said with a sly grin
"I love you more than words can say,
to say anything else would be a sin.
I love you more than liberty,
or health, honor, or beauty"--
she was working up a sweat
so she took a deep breath--

"My," Cordelia the youngest thought.
"There's cause for alarm.
I want to prove my love,
but to speak would be great harm."

The King said to Goneril,
"Good! From here to the sand
I'll draw across the map
This’ll be your land!"

The king thought it was great
as he threw in his mouth a grape
and told Regan, the middle daughter, to speak,
with a sickly sigh,
a bat of her eye,
she played the maiden meek.

"I say it like my sister,” said the second,
“no one’s above
my funnible father that I love...
and not only that but I hate
every other gift or state.”

He ate it up—that dad.
Ooh how Regan was bad!

"Goodness,” Cordelia thought. "That's rich.
Dad's put me in an awful stitch."

The king drew a line on the map;
he was an awful sap.
He said to Cordelia, "Your turn."
Her stomach was achurn
As she said, "Nothing."

“Nothing?" The king asked,
his face a red mask.

"I love you and obey you,
As I should and not more.
I'm not like my sisters, so sue!"