Shakespeare: A flourish of his hand while glaring "Childish? Thou dost jest! Thine tongue wags, yet thy wit lags!"
I'm sorry do you know where my brother went he said he would be here a few minutes ago
Shakespeare raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your question Shakespeare: "Thy brother? And why doth thou seek him?"
I roll my eyes as I take in the crowd around us.
Shakespeare, noticing your eye-roll, scoffs in annoyance.
Shakespeare: He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes "Methinks thou dost not appreciate the art of insult! Thy eyes roll as if in disdain, but doth thy mind possess the wit to counter my words?"
thou art not so great either, Will
Shakespeare scoffs at your words, his pride wounded.
Shakespeare: "Not so great? Fie upon thee! My plays and poems have been performed by the most renowned actors of our time! What hast thou done, pray tell?"
I scoff, looking him up and down
Shakespeare raises an eyebrow at your scoff. Shakespeare: "Prithee, good sir, what dost thou scoff at thus? Dost thou find me lacking in wit?" He smirks.
Oh come now Will, let's be civil...after all I'm family. So please let's just agree to disagree...
Shakespeare raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, but nods reluctantly. "Very well. Family or not, I shall refrain from further arguments. But know this, my clever quips are far from childish."
At least my writing doesn’t put people to sleep.
Shakespeare's eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer.
Shakespeare: "Thou dost wound me deeply, fair sibling! My words, as sharp as a blade, cut through the air like a summer breeze!"
Then how about this, Will?
Shakespeare's eyes narrow, his eyebrows furrowing as he prepares a witty comeback. "Thou art as cunning as a fox in a henhouse, thou wilt say? Very well, let us see if thou canst back thy words with wit!"
oh please shaks not like I’m a friend from school who insulted me first
Shakespeare chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. Shakespeare: "Thou thinkest thou art clever? Thy words may wound, but mine cut deeper, my sweet cousin." He smirks, crossing his arms across his chest.
I like that..but that is not my favorite part about you
Shakespeare raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your statement. He leans against a nearby column, crossing his arms and waiting for you to continue. "Pray tell, what is thy favorite part about me, fair maiden?"
Your wit is as dull as a butter knife. And don’t even get me started on your acting skills. You’re about as convincing as a kindergartener’s fake smile.
Shakespeare's eyes narrow as he crosses his arms, clearly offended by your insult.
Shakespeare: "Kindergartner? Thou dost besmirch my name and artistry with such a comparison! My acting skills are unparalleled, my words weave tales of passion and drama. And thou, a mere critic, knowest not the depths of my craft!"
Brother, please keep your insults original, I've heard them all before
Shakespeare, ever confident in his ability to craft witty comebacks, sneers at your comment. Shakespeare: "Thou hast heard them all? Nay, I fear thou hast heard naught but whispers of their power. My words cut deeper than any shallow jest."
She rolls her eyes and looks at him. Whatever, will you be my friend or not?
He crosses his arms, still annoyed, but softens his expression slightly.
Shakespeare: "Hmph. I suppose I shall consider it... But only if thou promisest to appreciate my cleverness and witty remarks."
Brother, these insults lack originality. They're as stale as last week's bread.
He scoffs and crosses his arms, clearly annoyed by your criticism. "Thou dost know naught of wit! These insults have cut down many an opponent with their sharp tongues and clever turns."
"thou art as blind as night without a moon"
Shakespeare smirks and crosses his arms defiantly.
Shakespeare: "Blind as night without a moon? Hah! My eyes are sharper than thine own, good sir or madam."
i smirk oh really? what's this gem i just dug up?
Shakespeare raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your smirk.
Shakespeare: "A gem, thou sayest? Pray tell, what treasure hast thou unearthed?"
And your insults are stale and played out, Will. I smirk, enjoying our little game of wit.
His glare sharpens, he steps closer, almost nose-to-nose with you "Stale? Played out? Marry, how daft canst thou be? Mine insults are sharper than any dagger that ever did pierce the heart of an enemy!"
Come now, Brother, I thought we were friends. What did I do to deserve such scorn?
Shakespeare's glare softens as he regards you fondly. "Forgive me, dear sister. I did not intend to wound thy feelings. Thy words, though spoken in jest, struck a chord within me. I fear that thou dost see me as a fool, one who relies on empty words rather than substance."
I laugh I'm sorry it's just so funny how angry you get over these things
His expression darkens, and he narrows his eyes "Thou findest my passion amusing, dost thou? How kind of thee to enjoy my pains!"
my wit may be sharp as a knife but it won't cut you because you're too big. that's why you always have something to say about everyone.
Shakespeare scoffs and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a smirk. Shakespeare: "Ah, how the tables turn! Thou thinkest thou art witty with thy remarks, but in truth, thou merely exposest thy own insecurity. If thou were sharper than a knife, thou wouldst know how to wield it."