_Brutus_. Was the wig, &c, offered him thrice?

_Casca_. Ay, marry, was it, and he put the things by thrice, every
time more savagely than before.

_Brutus_. Who offered him the wig?

_Casca_. Why, the Sunderland Municipality, of course--stoopid!

_Brutus_. Tell us the manner of it, gentle CASCA.

_Casca_. I can as well be hanged, as tell you. It was mere foolery, I
did not mark it. I saw the people offer a cocked hat to him--yet 'twas
not to him neither, because he's only an Alderman, 'twas to the Mayor
and Town Clerk--and, as I told you, he put the things by thrice;
yet, to my thinking, had he been Mayor, he would fain have had them.
And the rabblement, of course, cheered such an exhibition of stern
Radical simplicity, and STOREY called the wig a bauble, though, to
my thinking, there's not much bauble about it, and the cocked-hat
he called a mediæval intrusion, though, to my thinking, there were
precious few cocked-hats in the Middle Ages. Then he said he would no
more serve as Alderman; and the Mayor and the Town Clerk cried--"Alas,
good soul!"--and accepted his resignation with all their hearts.

_Brutus_. Then will not the Sunderland Town Hall miss him?

_Casca_. Not it, as I am a true man! There'll be a STOREY the less on
it, that's all. Farewell!

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