Arth. Alas, 'tis vain to instruct your innocence;
You have no notion of light or colours. [Trumpet sounds within.
Em. Why, is not that a trumpet?
Arth. Yes.
Em. I knew it,
And I can tell you how the sound on't looks;
It looks as if it had an angry fighting face.[19]
Arth. 'Tis now indeed a sharp unpleasant sound,
Because it calls me hence from her I love,