Beaumont had introduced innovations--two antimasques, or "subtle, capricious dances" accompanied by spectacular or comic dumb-show, instead of one, and new and varied characters in each, instead of the stereotyped Witches, Satyrs, Follies, etc. His Nymphs, Hyades, blind Cupids, and half vivified Statuas from Jove's altar, of the first antimasque occasioned great amusement, so that the King called for them again at the end--"but one of the Statuas by that time was undressed." And the May-dance of the second, with its rural characters--Pedant, Lord and Lady of the May, country clown and wench, host and hostess, he-baboon and she-baboon, he-fool and she-fool--stirred laughter and applause that drowned the music. The main masque was stately, and fitly symbolic of the occasion. And one at least of the songs, that sung by the twelve white-robed priests, each playing upon his lute, before Jupiter's altar, has the rare lyrical quality of Beaumont's best manner,-- Shake off your heavy trance, And leap into a dance, Such as no mortals use to tread, Fit only for Apollo To play to, for the Moon to lead, And all the Stars to follow! We may be sure that the poet received his meed of praise from King, Princess, and Elector, and from officials of the Court--the Earl of Nottingham, Lord Privy Seal, and Bacon, "the chief contriver"; and that he sat high at the "solemn supper in the new Marriage-room" which the King made them on the Sunday,--maybe "at the same board" with the King who doubtless jested much at the expense of Prince Charles and his followers. For they had to pay for the feast, "having laid a wager for the charges, and lost it in running at the ring."[83]