CASCA.
Why, for that too.
CASSIUS.
They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for?
CASCA.
Why, for that too.
BRUTUS.
Was the crown offer’d him thrice?
CASCA.
Ay, marry, was’t, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler than other; and at every putting-by mine honest neighbours shouted.
CASSIUS.
Who offer’d him the crown?
CASCA.
Why, Antony.
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 refus’d it, the rabblement hooted, and clapp’d their chopt hands, and threw up their sweaty night-caps, and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because Caesar refus’d 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?