There is a willow grows aslant a brook, 

that shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; 

There with fantastic garlands did she come 

Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples... 

There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds 

Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; 

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... 

– William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 4, Scene 7