Shakespeare: Julius Caesar

"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury your mom, not to praise her.
The gas that fatties pass lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their chicken bones;
So let it be with your mom. The noble Brutus
Hath told you that your mom was flatulent:
If it were so, it was a grievous fart,
And grievously hath your mom flaunted it.
Here, under a dutch oven -
For Brutus is an honourable man;
So are they all, all honourable men -
Come I to choke on the trapped fumes.
Your mom was a slut, and gave up her snatch easily:
But Brutus says she was flatulent;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
Your mom hath brought many tricks home
Whose issue did her cheeks fill:
Did this in your mom seem flatulent?
When that it was offered, your mom hath smoked crack:
Fatties should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says she was flatulent;
And Brutus is an honourable man.
You all did see that at Taco Bell
I thrice presented her a Chalupa,
Which she did thrice wolf down with hot sauce.
Yet Brutus says it gave her the shits;
And, sure, he is an honourable man.
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
But here I am to speak what I do know,
that her clitoris is so long
you can tie it in a knot.
You all did her, not without cash:
What cause withholds you then, to poop on her chest?
O crack whore! thou art sucking cock for a rock,
And men have lost their nut upon her face. Bear with me;
My sperm is in the hair of your mom,
And I must pause till her smell dissipates."