Bored with Palin, I stuffed a few other things into the Markov chain text munger. Shakespeare's Julius Ceasar:

ACT I
SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above.

A crowd of people; among them a Soothsayer

CAESAR

Calpurnia!

CASCA

Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony!

ANTONY

Why, friends, you go to take my stand,
To see thy thy Anthony making his peace,
Shaking the bloody spur,
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades,
Sink in the names of all this world.
I do desire no more.

BRUTUS

Prepare the body

ANTONY

Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep.
Passion, I see, is catching; for mine own turn'd enemy:
This ensign here of the heavens:
But if you were best.

CINNA THE POET

I am not well,
And, for thy humour, I will not have taken him at a table

ANTONY

These many, then, shall die; their names are prick'd.

It's like a movie trailer.

Poe's "The Raven" was especially fun:

Once upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the chamber turning, all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the raven, `Nevermore.'

I like how it gets right to the action, and then bounces around as if Poe was all tweaked-out on NoDoz while he wrote it.