BRUTUS.
Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
CASCA.
I can as well be hang'd, as tell the manner of it: it was
mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a
crown; — yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these
coronets; — and, as I told you, he put it by once: but, for all
that, to my thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he
offered it to him again: then he put it by again: but, to my
thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then
he offered it the third time; he put it the third time by; and
still, as he refused it, the rabblement shouted, and clapp'd
their chopt hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and
uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refused
the crown, that it had almost choked Caesar, for he swooned and
fell down at it: and for mine own part, I durst not laugh for
fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
CASSIUS.
But, soft! I pray you. What, did Caesar swoon?
CASCA.
He fell down in the market-place, and foam'd at mouth, and was
speechless.
BRUTUS.
'Tis very like: he hath the falling-sickness.
