The second point is that what Dr Bradley says as to the imaginative experience—that it is to be judged entirely from within—is misleading. In most cases we do not judge it from within. Our judgment as to its value is no part of it. In rare instances such a judgment may be part of it, but this is exceptional. As a rule we have to come out of it in order to judge it, and we judge it by memory or by other residual effects which we learn to be good indices to its value. If by judging it in the experience we mean merely while these residual effects are fresh, we may agree. In so judging it, however, it’s “place in the great structure of human life” cannot possibly be ignored. The value which it has is dependent upon this, and we cannot judge that value without taking this place, and with it innumerable ulterior worths, into account. It is not that we shall evaluate it wrongly if we neglect them, but that evaluation is just this taking account of everything, and of the way things hang together. The third point arises with regard to Dr Bradley’s third position, that the consideration of ulterior ends, whether by the poet in the act of composing, or by the reader in the act of experiencing, tends to lower poetic value. Here all depends upon _which are the ulterior ends in question_, and what the kind of poetry. It will not be denied that for some kinds of poetry the _intrusion_ of certain ulterior ends may, and often does, lower their value; but there seem plainly to be other kinds of poetry in which its value as poetry definitely and directly depends upon the ulterior ends involved. Consider the Psalms, Isaiah, the New Testament, Dante, the _Pilgrim’s Progress_, Rabelais, any really universal satire, Swift, Voltaire, Byron. In all these cases the consideration of ulterior ends has been certainly essential to the act of composing. That needs no arguing; but, equally, this consideration of the ulterior ends involved is inevitable to the reader.