‘When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread
wide; And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element: but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death’

- Hamlet

(Based on "Ophelia", Sir John Everett Millais)