THEU. Ah me! you've proved my ruin!
PHA. Aye, and he has proved the ruin of his father.
THEU. You prophesy the truth! I could wish it false!
PHA. A friend of his father, I suppose?
THEU. Ah me! Upon my faith, you do pronounce him to be a wretched father.
PHA. Why really, this is nothing at all—thirty minae, in comparison with the other expenses he has incurred in good living. He has ruined his father. There's one servant there, a very great scoundrel, Tranio by name; he could even waste the revenue of a Hercules {4}. On my word, I'm sadly distrest for his father; for when he comes to know that things have gone on thus, a hot coal will be scorching his breast, poor man.
THEU. If, indeed, this is the truth.
PHA. What am I to gain, that I should tell a lie? (Knocks again at the door.) Hallo, you! is any one coming to open this door?
SER. Why do you knock in this way, when there's no one in the house?
PHA. I fancy that he's gone elsewhere to carouse. Now then, let's begone. (They move as if going.)