“To his rev’ende broders in Criste, Maister Dene and Maister Chaunter, of Excester, or on’ of theym, this to be delyvd. in goodely haste. Right rev’end broders in Criste, in my most lovynge maner y recomaunde me unto yow p’ynge yow right hartely to be good maisters to a prieste called I. David Neyton, a lovyer of myn’ which trustyth by your favors to be on’ of your vicaryyes in Synte Peters Churche if he be a person’ necessary to occupye a such rome yn your’ sayde churche y p’y yow that he may the rader for my desyre be accepte to the same rome, and he and y shall p’y for the longe contynuance of your bothe prosperyteis, which God p’sve to his pleasur’ and your hartes desyres—Amen. Writyn in haste penultimo die Aprilis by your olde louyer and bedman’. “DAVID, Prior of Plympton’.” ----- The refectory was by no means an unimportant portion of the priory. It and the cellar under (which was in charge of a much-envied functionary, known as the cellarer) are the only considerable remains existing of the once extensive monastic buildings at Plympton. Here the monks, according to the seasons, had their one meal or two meals a day; the usual allowance being “one white loaf, another loaf called Trequarter, a dish called General, another dish of flesh or fish called Pitance, three potells of beer daily, or three silver halfpence” for the teetotalers. This is said to have been the ordinary bill of fare, but it was, no doubt, amplified to any extent when the lords and squires were entertained by the prior, and especially when, as in 1348, Edward the Black Prince dined at his hospitable table. But the time was coming when there would be “no more cakes and ale”—when the prior and brethren would leave the monastery gates, never again to re-enter them; when, with their “occupation gone” (like the stage coachmen and guards of the nineteenth century), they would be lost in the crowd of a bustling world, and never seen or heard of more. There was a dark side to the picture which England then presented; and perhaps the saddest sight was when, on the morrow after the dissolution, the mendicant knocked at the almonry door, knowing no change, and least of all in charity, and for the first time found no bread or alms for him.