Oliver
TWIST
1.
AGNES kneels before her father, LORD BROWNLOW and admits to being pregnant
2.
Agnes has given birth to Oliver
3.
Fagin, from the gallows
4.Dinnertime at the workhouse
5.
Oliver runs away and meets the Artful Dodger
6.
Fagin wants Bill to kidnap Oliver
7.
Fagin tries to beat Oliver back from Lord Brownlow’s
8.
At the pub, Nancy sings.
9.
Fagin, before he is hanged.
1. AGNES kneels before her father, LORD BROWNLOW and admits to being pregnant
BROWNLOW: Throw her out, Mrs Grimwig!
AGNES: (Screams) No! No, I am your daughter!
BROWNLOW: You are no daughter of mine! See, see this portrait, this beautiful, pure and innocent girl upon this canvas, why that is my daughter!
AGNES: That IS me, father. I am your loving and dutiful daughter.
BROWNLOW You hussy! Look at your swollen stomach! Has my daughter a stomach swollen with shame? No. No. Has my daughter fornicated with a married man? No, no. Such a thing would be beyond the wildest fantasy of my pure and angelic daughter. She would not take the good and ancient name of Brownlow and drag it through the mud of scandal! Where is my Agnes?
AGNES: She?s here, helpless before you.
BROWNLOW Get away from me! Take your fingers off me, my flesh creeps to think of your hands upon him that impregnated you with his bastard child!
AGNES: This is your grandchild, feel, feel, he kicks against my belly.
BROWNLOW : Away, away! Never lay your hands on me again. I retch to think of it. Out, out woman, demon out and never return to darken my door again!
AGNES: Lost, lost! (exit).
BROWNLOW : Wait!
AGNES: Papa?
BROWNLOW: You gave me this, Agnes, it contains your picture. (he takes out a golden locket)
AGNES: Yes!
BROWNLOW: It's of no use to me now, young hussy, I would not recognise it! (Throws it to AGNES who takes it.).
AGNES: You are cruel, sir! Cruel! May you get what you deserve!!
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Notes:
hussy:
tra’n’e
swollen:
enfl’
to drag through the mud:
tra’ner dans la boue
to retch:
vomir, avoir des haut-le-coeur
don't darken my door again:
ne revenez plus jamais ici’!
2. Agnes has given birth to Oliver and dies in the presence of the Beadle and Mrs Corney
BEADLE: Sh - hush. Did the crone see or hear anything? Let us be philosophical, M'am, and keep this golden locket and let the secret of the child's birth die with his mother. We cannot go wasting time on paupers. Will this scrap of a child live? (Sounds of child's cries throughout this.)
CORNEY: He seems healthy enough.
BEADLE: Hah! Another burden on our charity. Born selfish! Well. I have the register and I shall name him. A boy you say?
CORNEY: He is.
BEADLE: I am strictly alphabetical in these matters. The last orphan was an S ? so I called him Swubble. This thing is a therefore a T - (pondering the problem of a name the BEADLE notices the way he is twisting his pen in thought) - Twist I shall call him, Oliver Twist.
CORNEY: Oh, Mr Bumble, what a poet lies inside your mighty form.
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Notes:
crone:
veille dame
scrap of a child:
un rien du tout
burden:
fardeau
3. Fagin, from the gallows :
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!
Notes:
Workhouse:
asile des pauvres
urchin:
gamin des rues
4. Dinnertime at the workhouse :
BEADLE: I hope the soup is not too thick, Mrs CORNEY?
CORNEY: It's thin, Sir, very thin. 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.
5. Oliver runs away and meets the Artful Dodger on the road to London?
DODGER: Stone the crows! Is you alive? 'Cos if you're not I'll turn your pockets out if you don't mind? (Does so). Uhuh ? empty. And just a penny. (OLIVER stirs) Saints alive! Is you a ghost? No offence, I was just warming my hands in your pockets. Well - what else is pockets for?
OLIVER: You are not Jesus?
DODGER: Hardly! And you is not a ghost. Though you will join the 'ost of ghosts if you don't get a cup of hot coffee and a slice of bread inside you. Well, I ain't got the coffee but I do have the bread. Tara! (Produces the bread. OLIVER wolfs it down).
OLIVER: You're as kind as Jesus.
DODGER: Going to London?
OLIVER: I hope so.
DODGER: Got anywhere to stay?
OLIVER: No.
DODGER: Money?
OLIVER: Oh yes! (Feels in his pocket for the penny, but it has gone) Oh no...
DODGER: I suppose you would want some place to sleep tonight?
OLIVER: I do indeed. (DODGER palms the stolen penny back into OLIVER's pocket.)
DODGER: Well, don't worry, I know a respectable London gentleman, what'll give you a place to stay for nothink. Not a penny. Not that my friend, the respectable gentleman knows me - oh no. If we passed each other in the street we would walk straight by! (Makes a hand movement and winks at Oliver). Know what I mean?
OLIVER: You talk very like a Christian.
DODGER: So you get my meaning?
OLIVER: What meaning?
DODGER: Oh you are green.
OLIVER: No, my name is Oliver, Oliver Twist.
DODGER: My Christian name is Jack, if I was a Christian! But the merry Old gentleman wot I talked about: he?s given me a devil of a name: the Artful Dodger. (Bows and holds out his hat to OLIVER. OLIVER finds the penny in his pocket and is delighted. He offers the penny to DODGER.)
OLIVER: My penny's back!
DODGER: You keep it.
OLIVER: Oh thank you, Mister Dodger. Pleased to meet you, Mister Dodger.
DODGER: Come on, lad, London's waiting.
OLIVER: Is London beautiful?
DODGER: Oh yeah, it's like heaven but smoky.
Notes:
Stone the crows ! ou Saints alive!:
'alors'
6. Fagin wants Bill to kidnap Oliver from Lord Brownlow's, but Bill is too drunk and Nancy offers to go in his place?
NANCY: Allo, Dodger! Allo, Fagin! I've come to steal my man, Fagin. You can't have him.
BILL: I thought you was supposed to be whoring tonight?
NANCY: I'm sick of those greasy paws on me. I'm taking the night off to be with my Bill.
FAGIN: I'm afraid, my dear, your Bill's busy tonight. He has an appointment in Pentonville.
DODGER: Bill and I are droppin' in on a Lord Brownlow. If you please.
NANCY: Oh not a burglary tonight, Bill. It's not safe - there's too much pale moonlight.
BILL: It's not a burglary, Nancy. It's a kidnapping. One Oliver Twist.
FAGIN: One of my boys, Nancy, he's been dragged away. Bill here means to rescue him. He's such a wonderful charitable man!
BILL: It's to save 'is filthy neck, and mine too. Come on Dodger. We better go now!
NANCY: Bill, listen to me, that old devil is going to be the death of you! (TO Fagin:) How can he work tonight? Don't let him go! Can't you see he's too drunk?
Bill: I'm not deaf!! This drink fires me!! What's it to you, anyway? Come on, Dodger!
(DODGER throws him a stick, he misses it and collapses drunk).
NANCY: Bill! Bill! Get up, get up, you drunkard! Fagin, for god's sake, look at the state of him!! He can't go anywhere like that!
FAGIN: Well, the Dodger will go with him?
DODGER: I?m not going out with him tonight?
FAGIN: You will!
DODGER: I won?t!!
NANCY: Stop it, Fagin! He doesn?t have to go. I?ll go.
FAGIN: You?
NANCY: Yes, me. I'll get your precious Oliver Twist for you ? after all , Dodger, he's my little brother, ain't he!
Dodger: Who?
NANCY: Oliver Twist, my little brother who ran away from home: 'Oliver, Oliver, come back to the bosom of your family'?
Notes:
to whore:
se prostituer
greasy paws:
mains sales
If you please!:
dans ce contexte, pour marquer l'art social entre eux et Brownlow
To save your neck:
sauver son cou (ici, littœGalement)
the drink fires me:
l'alcool me donne des forces
7. When Fagin tries to beat Oliver back from Lord Brownlow’s, Nancy protects the boy:
NANCY: (Grabs stick) Don't beat him, Bill. Not the stick, Bill, he's too young.
BILL: Stand off me, or I'll split your skull against the wall!
NANCY: I don't care, Bill, I don't care what you do to me! Kill me, but not the child!
BILL: I'll do the both of you! (Throws Nancy to the floor and takes up stick as FAGIN and DODGER return with OLIVER who they have caught with ease, playing with him as if in a game - cat and mouse).
FAGIN: What's the matter here?
BILL: The girl's gone mad!
NANCY: (Shaking with rage). No she hasn't Fagin, don't you believe it!
FAGIN: (to OLIVER) So you wanted to get away, my dear, did you? Called for the police, did you? Well, we'll soon cure you of that. (Taking stick from BILL with deference)
NANCY: I won't stand by and see it done, Fagin. You've got the boy, what more do you want. Let him be, or I shall go to the precious police, I shall put the mark on some of you even if it leads me to hang!
8. At the pub, Nancy sings.
NANCY: (sings) My mother said always look under the bed
Before you blow the candle out
In case there is a man about!
I always do, you can make a bet
But it’s never been my luck to find a man there yet!
ALL: Tra la la, tra la la! It's never her luck to find a man there yet!
NANCY: (Serious & drunk) What a life, boys, what a life! What a disappointment!
(Sings) The girl next door had burglars in
Beneath her bed one tarried,
She caught him and reformed him
In two weeks they were married!
But oh it did upset me girls
Lord knows how I did fret
Though I poked beneath my bed
There was no man there yet - tra la Ia tra la la!
9. Fagin, before he is hanged, speaking of his betraying Nancy to Bill?
FAGIN: Of all the crimes that have been committed under the cover of darkness within great London since night first hung over the city, was this really the worst? What of the workhouse? What about the children whose lives were crushed in the mines and in the factories. Was the mob and the law sent out after those responsible for those crimes? No! o, no! But it comes to the deeds of a common criminal like Bill Sikes then the likes of Lord Brownlow call for the police, the police will call for the newspapers, the newspapers will be sold in pubs and in the gutters and very soon a great mob will gather in the streets of London baying and screaming for blood, justice, truth and revenge ? a mob, a riot, a pogrom even.
Notes:
the mob:
la foule
to bay for blood:
r'lamer la t'e de quelqu'un
