More probably he was Mary Queen of Scots.

But as to who Wimpole is--" and his speech also was cloven with a roar of laughter from within.
"Wimpole!" cried Lord Beaumont, in a sort of ecstasy.

"Haven't you heard of the great modern wit?
My dear fellow, he has turned conversation, I do not say into an art--for that, perhaps, it always was but into a great art, like the statuary of Michael Angelo--an art of masterpieces.
His repartees, my good friend, startle one like a man shot dead.

They are final; they are--" Again there came the hilarious roar from the room, and almost with the very noise of it, a big, panting apoplectic old gentleman came out of the inner house into the hall where we were standing.
"Now, my dear chap," began Lord Beaumont hastily.
"I tell you, Beaumont, I won't stand it," exploded the large old gentleman.

"I won't be made game of by a twopenny literary adventurer like that.