"By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon,"

Ophelia refers to pilgrims of "The Way of St. James" who wore a hat with a scallop shell:


Pilgrims walk the Camino for various reasons. Some to seek penance, others enlightenment, and still others for a sense of adventure, yet all progress toward the Cathedral in Santiago where it is believed the remains of the apostle St. James are held. Most pilgrims choose to carry a scallop shell with them to symbolize their journey in honor of St. James. According to legend, scallop shells are said the have covered St. James’ body after it was found on the shores of the Galician coast. Another, perhaps more useful symbol is a walking stick to aid a weary pilgrim on his or her journey.


A film was made about the route starring Martin Sheen. More info here; http://theway-themovie.com/camino.php

Compare to a poem by Sir Walter Raleigh (date unknown: poem is attributed to him.)

As you came from the holy land

         Of Walsingham,

Met you not with my true love

         By the way as you came?

   “How shall I know your true love,

         That have met many one,

I went to the holy land,

         That have come, that have gone?”

   She is neither white, nor brown,

         But as the heavens fair;

There is none hath a form so divine

         In the earth, or the air.

“Such a one did I meet, good sir,

         Such an angelic face,

Who like a queen, like a nymph, did appear

         By her gait, by her grace.”

She hath left me here all alone,

         All alone, as unknown,

Who sometimes did me lead with herself,

         And me loved as her own.

“What’s the cause that she leaves you alone,

         And a new way doth take,

Who loved you once as her own,

         And her joy did you make?”

I have lov’d her all my youth;

         But now old, as you see,

Love likes not the falling fruit

         From the withered tree.

Know that Love is a careless child,

         And forgets promise past;

He is blind, he is deaf when he list,

         And in faith never fast.

His desire is a dureless content,

         And a trustless joy:

He is won with a world of despair,

         And is lost with a toy.

Of womenkind such indeed is the love,

         Or the word love abus’d,

Under which many childish desires

         And conceits are excus’d.

But true love is a durable fire,

         In the mind ever burning,

Never sick, never old, never dead,

         From itself never turning.