¹⁷ And the suburb to the city hath been northward, fifty and two hundred, and southward, fifty and two hundred, and eastward, fifty and two hundred, and westward, fifty and two hundred.

³⁰ The firstborn of the poor will eat, and the needy will lie down in safety; and I will kill your root with famine, and your remnant will be killed.

³¹ Howl, gate! Cry, city! You are melted away, Philistia, all of you; for smoke comes out of the north, and there is no straggler in his ranks.