Zephaniah

Who refuses to go, shall perish by the sword. All are to make ready for the journey and are to assemble in the marketplace. Thrice at dawning will the trumpet sound. Thereafter, anyone who lingers in the city, is to be slain.

The Elder

Let death come! I will not go. There is no life for me away from Jerusalem. The grave is better than slavery in a far country.

A Woman

My brother, my nephew, and my husband have all been slain. Tombs are my heritage, and this heritage will I keep.

A Man

I shall stay! I shall stay! Here have I struck my roots, and from this soil alone can I draw strength. Palsied would be my arm should I try to plough the furrow in another land, and my eyes would not serve me in a strange world.

Voices

[In the enthusiasm of despair] Let us stay.—Let us choose death.—Better death than slavery.—Never will we go into exile.—Better to die.