Explore "Tybalt" by Stephen Barr on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Trice, the jester, was getting old. So, he feared, were his jokes.
His joints were stiff and he could no longer do the amusing contortions that used so to entertain the Earl and his little court. In fact, the Earl was getting on, too. He looked as though he was falling asleep in his chair. Next to him the Lady Godwina was mumbling and giggling -- not at poor Trice's feeble quips, but as a result of too much blackberry wine mixed with mead. She hiccoughed loudly and the Earl opened his eyes.