The king has golden dishes filled with dainties. In the palace they would rather throw their leavings to the dogs than feed our children.
A Voice
I don’t believe that.
Yes.—Yes.—I have seen them do it.—My sister says they do.—Where is Nahum?—Give us bread.
[Gradually the voices fuse into a single shout for bread. The mob thronging the steps grows more threatening. Some of those in the front ranks are about to seize the doorkeeper, while others continue to beat on the closed door. The doorkeeper blows a trumpet]
Abimelech
[Hastening from the palace, attended by a number of soldiers] Away with you. Push them back. Down the steps. Clear the entrance to the palace.
[The soldiers use the hafts of their spears freely, and the mob yields ground, panicstricken]
Voices