But what are we to say of the second and far more important passage, the conclusion of the tragedy, the ‘unhappy ending,’ as it is called, though the word ‘unhappy’ sounds almost ironical in its weakness?  Is this too a blot upon King Lear as a stage-play?  The question is not so easily answered as might appear.  Doubtless we are right when we turn with disgust from Tate’s sentimental alterations, from his marriage of Edgar and Cordelia, and from that cheap moral which every one of Shakespeare’s tragedies contradicts, ‘that Truth and Virtue shall at last succeed.’  But are we so sure that we are right when we unreservedly condemn the feeling which prompted these alterations, or at all events the feeling which beyond question comes naturally to many readers of King Lear who would like Tate as little as we?  What they wish, though they have not always the courage to confess it even to themselves, is that the deaths of Edmund, Goneril, Regan and Gloster should be followed by the escape of Lear and Cordelia from death, and that we should be allowed to imagine the poor old King passing quietly in the home of his beloved child to the end which cannot be far off.  Now, I do not dream of saying that we ought to wish this, so long as we regard King Lear simply as a work of poetic imagination.  But if King Lear is to be considered strictly as a drama, or simply as we consider Othello, it is not so clear that the wish is unjustified.  In fact I will take my courage in both hands and say boldly that I share it, and also that I believe Shakespeare would have ended his play thus had he taken the subject in hand a few years later, in the days of Cymbeline and the Winter’s Tale.  If I read King Lear simply as a drama, I find that my feelings call for this ‘happy ending.’  I do not mean the human, the philanthropic, feelings, but the dramatic sense.  The former wish Hamlet and Othello to escape their doom; the latter does not; but it does wish Lear and Cordelia to be saved.  Surely, it says, the tragic emotions have been sufficiently stirred already.  Surely the tragic outcome of Lear’s error and his daughters’ ingratitude has been made clear enough and moving enough.  And, still more surely, such a tragic catastrophe as this should seem inevitable.  But this catastrophe, unlike those of all the other mature tragedies, does not seem at all inevitable.  It is not even satisfactorily motived.[130] In fact it seems expressly designed to fall suddenly like a bolt from a sky cleared by the vanished storm.  And although from a wider point of view one may fully recognise the value of this effect, and may even reject with horror the wish for a ’happy ending,’ this wider point of view, I must maintain, is not strictly dramatic or tragic.