Oliver Twist Page #4

-No, no.

Queer name.

Oliver Twist.

There are a great many books,

are there not, my boy?

A great number, sir.

Never saw so many.

How would you like

to grow up a clever man...

...and write books?

I think I'd rather read them, sir.

Wouldn't you like to be

a book writer?

I think it'd be a better thing

to be a bookseller, sir.

You have said a very good thing.

Well, well.

We won't make an author of you while

there's an honest trade to be learned...

...or brickmaking to turn to.

-Are you going to send me away, sir?

-No, my dear child.

You need not be afraid

that I am going to desert you...

-...unless you give me cause.

-I never, never will, sir.

I hope not...

...because I feel strongly disposed

to trust you.

Thank you, sir.

I'm pleased

I won't have to wear those again.

So are we all, my dear.

There.

Hello.

What's that?

This is young Oliver Twist.

The bookseller's boy

brought a package.

Oh, stop him, Oliver.

There's some books to go back.

-ls that the boy who had the fever?

-That's the boy.

Mind out!

-No sign of him, sir.

-Oh, dear, I'm very sorry for that.

I particularly wished some books

to be returned tonight.

Why not send Oliver with them?

He'll be sure to deliver them safely.

Yes, do let me take them.

If you please, sir.

I'll run all the way.

You shall go, my dear.

Ask Mrs. Bedwin

to show you the way.

-And, Oliver....

-Yes, sir?

Give the bookseller this.

The money I owe him.

I won't be long, sir.

-How long do you think it'll take him?

-You really expect him to come back?

-You don't?

-With a 5 note in his pocket?

No, I do not.

If ever that boy

returns to this house...

...I'll eat my own head, sir.

And yours.

Oh, my little brother!

-I don't believe my eyes.

-Let me go. Help!

-It's a miracle. Oh, I've found him.

-Please let me go.

-Oh, Oliver. Oliver.

-Nancy.

You're such a naughty boy to make me

suffer such distress on your account.

-Let go of me!

-What's the matter, ma'am?

He ran away from his parents.

-Get off me!

-Hard-working, respectable people...

...and joined a set of thieves

and bad characters.

Broke his mother's heart.

Young wretch.

Go home, you little brute.

I haven't got any parents.

I'm an orphan.

I live in Pentonville.

Oh, only hear him,

how he braves it out.

-What? Young Oliver.

-It's true.

You come home

to your poor mother.

I don't belong to them!

I don't know them! Help! Help!

"Help, help"?

I'll give you "help, help,"

you little wretch!

And these books.

Have you been a-stealing them,

have you, eh?

-You little villain.

-That's right. You give it to him.

-Only way to bring him to his senses.

-I will, missus.

And you come with me,

you little wretch.

It'll do him good.

-Who is this man? Help!

-Bullseye, mind him, boy.

-Mind him.

-Help! Help!

Look at him, Fagin.

Hold me, somebody.

Hold me, somebody,

while I laugh it out.

Look at his togs, Fagin.

Delighted to see you

looking so well, my dear.

Why didn't you write, my dear,

and say you was coming?

We'd have got something warm

for supper.

Hello, Fagin. What's that?

That's mine, Fagin.

Oh, no, my dear. Mine, Bill, mine.

You shall have the books.

If that ain't mine and Nancy's,

I'll take the boy back again.

Come on, hand over, will you?

This is hardly fair, Bill.

Hardly fair, Nancy.

Fair or not fair,

hand over, I tell you.

Give it here, you avaricious

old skeleton. Give it here!

That's for our share of the trouble,

and not half enough neither.

You may keep the books if you're fond

of reading. If you ain't, sell them.

They're very pretty.

Beautiful writing, isn't it, Oliver?

Send them back.

They belong to Mr. Brownlow.

Send them back.

The books and the money.

He'll think I stole them.

-Please send them back.

-The boy's right.

You're right, Oliver. You're right.

They will think you've stolen them.

It couldn't have happened better

if we'd chosen our time.

Help! Help! Police!

Fetch the police! The police!

Keep back the dog, Bill.

He'll tear the boy to pieces.

-Serve him right.

-Help! Fetch the police!

Fetch the police!

Step aside, or I'll split

your head against the wall.

I don't care.

That child shan't be torn down

by the dog unless you kill me first.

Bullseye. Here. Bullseye!

Dodger!

Get after him!

Take your hands off me!

So you wanted to get away,

my dear, did you?

Wanted to call for the police,

did you?

We'll soon cure you of that.

I won't stand by

and see this done, Fagin.

You got the boy.

What more do you want?

Keep quiet, Nancy, or I'll quieten you

for a good long time to come.

Let him be. Let him be!

You're a fine one for the boy

to make a friend of.

God Almighty help me, I am.

He's a thief, a liar, a devil,

all that's bad from this night forth.

Ain't that enough for the old wretch

without blows?

Come, come, we must have

civil words. Civil words.

Civil words?

Civil words, you old villain!

I thieved for you when I was a child

not half as old as this.

It's your living.

Yes, and you're the wretch

that drove me to it...

...and who will keep me at it,

day and night, till I die!

Dodger, Charley,

put Oliver to bed.

Best to take them clothes off.

They're too good to sleep in.

Charley's right. This here suit cost

more than 4 pence ha'penny.

I never felt such lovely stuff.

Have you, Dodger?

Not me. But I'm willing to lay odds...

...this is the same stuff

the queen wears on Sundays.

Quick, get him.

Take it off.

Lift him up.

Up he goes.

Get them shoes off.

Little something for your luncheon,

my dear?

Shall we have a little chat?

Oliver?

Shall us?

I expect you'd welcome...

...the sound of a human voice again,

eh, my dear?

Do you know...

...what I consider the greatest sin

in the world, my dear?

Ingratitude.

And that's what you're guilty of...

...ingratitude.

We took you in, we cherished you. If

we hadn't, you'd have died of hunger.

How do you repay us?

You run away...

...you cry out for the police, you

cause us great anxiety and expense.

There was a lad once, just like you,

and I was a father to him.

He ran away, like you.

He indeed went to the police.

And can you guess

how he ended up?

They hanged him...

...at the Old Bailey.

Certain evidence was made available,

not all of it precisely true...

...but all of it necessary to provide

for my own safety...

...and that of my friends.

Yeah. Poor boy.

Hanged.

It's a terrible thing, hanging, Oliver.

Dawn, the gallows...

...the rope, the noose.

You don't always have

to be guilty, you see, Oliver.

They hang you for anything

these days.

That's because they're

so very fond of hanging.

But if you do as you're told...

...we'll be very good friends yet.

You must feel free

to walk about now, Oliver.

Yes, feel free.

-Here, Oliver.

-Yes?

I'd like you to assist me

in my toilet straightaway.

-Will you do that for me, my man?

-All right. I'll be glad to have company.

There's a good fellow. You may start

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