Read it through once

“Ah, my King,” cried Hendon, colouring slightly, “do not thou condemn me--wait, and thou shalt see. I am no impostor--she will say it; you shall hear it from the sweetest lips in England. I an impostor? Why, I know this old hall, these pictures of my ancestors, and all these things that are about us, as a child knoweth its own nursery. Here was I born and bred, my lord; I speak the truth; I would not deceive thee; and should none else believe, I pray thee do not _thou_ doubt me--I could not bear it.”