I have dwelt many months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland.
I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my hopes ?" "Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness." "Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension.

Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you.

You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!" "The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is arrived.

Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness; but they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in vice.

Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whose delight is in death and wretchedness?
Begone! I am firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage." The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger.