Cassius. Who offered him the crown?
Casca. Why, Antony.
Brutus. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca.
Casca. I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it. It was mere foolery. I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown; yet 't was not a crown;—neither 't was 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 both 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 hooted, and clapped their chapped 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 foamed at mouth, and was speechless.
Brutus. 'Tis very like; he hath the falling sickness.
Cassius. No, Caesar hath it not; but you, and I, And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness.
Casca. I know not what you mean by that: but I am sure, Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and displeased them, as they use to do the Players in the theatre, I am no true man.
Brutus. What said he, when he came unto himself.