Claudius remembers Rome, where kissed the Ring of the Fisherman, and hoped the city's holiness would cleanse some stubborn wickedness inside him, but he only found more wickedness. It seems silly, now. "Thou art so unlike Him," he laughs. "Stop me. I'll do nothing but complain of God, like some tiresome suitor who thinks flattery is comparing his second love to the first. But He had me believe that faith must always be a trial to endure. Faith in thee comes easily."