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?
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.
CASSIUS.
No, Caesar hath it not; but you, and I,
And honest Casca, we have the falling-sickness.