SCENE THREE. FAGIN: So Oliver Twist grew up in the Workhouse. If only the child had died at birth I might be alive tomorrow, but it was not to be and Oliver Twist grew up to be a pale and sickly youth of nine years of age. He grew up in the parish workhouse: , what an institution: invented and organised for the systematic murder of poor children by gradual starvation! And they want to hang me for teaching a trade to poor urchins! Murdering hypocrites! They've got the wrong man! (The BEADLE enters and beckons on two WORKHOUSE BOYS whose heads he clouts, the second boy ducking to avoid the blow.) BEADLE: Work. (The WORKHOUSE BOYS join OLIVER around the coffin. This is one of the coffins that they are made to construct at the workhouse.) BOYS & OLIVER: (in rhythm). Two four six eight. Two four six eight. Eight out of ten will be dead. Eight out of ten will be dead. Two four six eight, two for six eight. Starved, burnt, scalded, whipped. Two four six eight. Beaten, broken, left to die. Two for six eight out of ten, two four six eight out of ten! Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead!Two four six eight out of ten. Two four six eight out ten. Two four six eight out of ten. Two four six eight out of ten. BEADLE: Oh wonderful work, what a marvellous and improving philosophy! Aren't you boys grateful? BOYS: (Working feverishly sanding and polishing the coffin) Two four six eight. Thank you, Sir. One hundred, two hundred, two thousand thank yous! Thank you. Thank you! Thank you! BOY ONE (SICK): Please, Sir, I don't think I can work no more. BEADLE: I beg your pardon? BOY ONE: I. my chest..(coughs) I can't work no more. BEADLE: No more! No more! You'll work no more when you are in your wooden bed deep in the grave! What is life but work? Work illuminates! Work educates! Work liberates! Work makes us free! BOYS: (Chanted at double speed) Two four six eight educate and liberate. Two four six eight eight out often are dead, eight out of ten are dead to date. Hate Hate hate! (x8) (BEADLE turns. Sick boy keels over and collapses in a coffin they have been polishing.) BEADLE: Get that boy out of that coffin! BOY: Please, Sir, I think he's dead, Sir. BEADLE: Oh, very well ? you might as well leave him in there. Nail down the lid. But you'll have to build an extra one for old Sowerby. We've ten to make today! You boys will do anything to get out of a bit of work! OLIVER: Shall we take him to the cellar and bury him by the other boys? BEADLE: Oh running the workhouse are you now, Oliver Twist? Sit still and wait for your dinner. What a holiday you have here. It's a regular hotel! Here comes your sweet Matron with your dinner. (Enter Mrs CORNEY with a bucket. of soup and a piece of salt. Bowls are handed to the surviving WORKHOUSE BOY, OLIVER and members of the front row of the audience.) MRS CORNEY: Bow - els!! ALL SING: A hotel for the poor A tavern for the lazy Free tea, breakfast, supper, and dinner Aah, for every beggar, criminal and sinner! To hell with moral fashion Cut down the general ration We may be bluff old buffers But by God the poor will suffer! We may be bluff old buffers But by God the poor will suffer! CORNEY: Lick, lick the salt. (Holds out the salt for the boys to lick). BEADLE: I hope the soup is not too thick, Mrs CORNEY? CORNEY: It's thin, Sir, very thin. (Ladles water from bucket, the boys kneel in prayer and hold out bowls. The boys quickly finish their food). I makes a profit with my food allowance. BEADLE: I makes a profit with me coffins. We must have profit. (The boys weep from hunger.) MRS CORNEY: The boys are crying again! BEADLE: Crying is good for boys, Mrs Corney. It opens their lungs, washes their faces, and exercises their eyes. Oh there's a little soup left, I think I might, with your permission... CORNEY: Oh it would be a pity to waste it, Mr Bumble. (BEADLE drinks from the bucket, while the ghost of the dead WORKHOUSE BOY appears from the coffin.) OLIVER: Dick! Alive? GHOST: Dead, starved. Oliver, Oliver do something! Ask for more. Ask for more. Ask for more. OLIVER: (As Beadle drinks from the bucket) Please, Sir. I want some more. ALL: MORE! OLIVER: More. (BEADLE spits out soup and swings at OLIVER with the bucket. Mrs CORNEY screams and OLIVER runs round her to escape the BEADLE who charges after him. He's tripped up by the boy, frightened by the GHOST and OLIVER escapes but he can only run round in circles and finally into MRS CORNEY who hammers the soup bucket over his head.) MRS CORNEY: Boy!! Fetch me the Beadle's whipping canes! BEADLE: Come my dear, we have our duties to perform. (To Mrs CORNEY) (Pulls OLIVER onto box & BEADLE raises his arm to cane OLIVER in a violent duet with MRS CORNEY. MRS CORNEY holds him by the biceps, he flexes with pride). BEADLE: This monster dared to ask for more! Why the very state would crumble were the rabble to ask for more and receive it! He must be thrashed to within an inch of his life. MRS CORNEY: Oh careful, my sweet, you might strain your arm. BEADLE: O, no, my dear ? this calms me! (MRS CORNEY and BEADLE deliver the first blows to OLIVER's rump. The blows make a tinny sound. MRS CORNEY retrieves. OLIVER's bowl from the seat of his trousers (They sing a duet as they beat OLIVER) BEADLE: O, Mistress Corney, you are so in luck, luck, luck CORNEY: You are an irresistible duck, duck, duck BEADLE/CORNEY: What an opportunity fort joining hearts in housekeeping BEADLE: Don?t cry CORNEY: Don?t sigh BEADLE: Don?t sigh, but help me sing: BEADLE: (Sings) You were meant for me CORNEY: I was meant for you BEADLE: Nature patterned you and when she had done CORNEY: I was all the sweet things rolled up in one BOTH: We are a plaintive melody. That never sets us free. Oh we're content the angels must have sent us And they meant you just for me! CORNEY: Sally! Fetch this wretch and throw him in the coal cellar! Come, my precious jewel, let us have tea. BEADLE: Will there be buttered muffins, Mrs C.? CORNEY: Everything is melting, everything. (Exit hand in hand as SALLY drags OLIVER aside). SALLY: (Loud, swigging from her bottle). You young criminal, asking for more, why one day you'll hang for murder. (Forces spirits down his throat). Listen Oliver, you've got to get away from here. They stole your birthright, the Beadle and his woman. I saw it, you're a gentlemen, an aristocrat. Your mother's name was Agnes? OLIVER: Agnes? SALLY : Agnes! Put your hat on. Take this penny. But get away tonight or they'll kill you. Mark my word. (LOUD) Filthy beggar. In the coal cellar with you! OLIVER: I love you, Sally. SALLY: I love you too, Oliver, but you must go!! (She improvises pretending to be Oliver?s voice in the cellar and her own voice castigating him.)(Whispers to Oliver.) Good luck and God bless you, little master! Go! Go! OLIVER: Thank you, Ma?am. SALLY: (Finger to her lips) Get away now. They'll kill you, mark my words. (Loud:) You stay in your cupboard!! (Whispered:) God bless you, Oliver. Enjoy your fortune when you find it, master. (SALLY abases herself before OLIVER. OLIVER is horrified and creeps out. ) OLIVER: I?ll be back for you, Sally, I?ll be back? (Exits.) SALLY: All these years and never found a good master. (Grasps her chest in agony.) I'll never find one now. My heart! God save my soul and damn yours, Beadle! May I meet you in hell! (SALLY collapses and dies melodramatically.) BEADLE : (Poking head out of door) What the dickens was that? CORNEY voice off: What is it, dear? BEADLE: Oh nothing, must have been my imagination. Great Scott, Mrs CORNEY, I have an imagination! Extraordinary! CORNEY: (Seductive) Oooh, Miss -ter Bum-bull..!! Come and use it on me!!! BOTH: Aah. BLACKOUT. FAGIN: Oh Oliver, Oliver. You think you are escaping but you were only plunging deeper and deeper into a living Hell! The English countryside! Scene 4 ©Paul Stebbings and Phil Smith 1994, 1996, 2001.