Her clothes spread wide and mermaid-like awhile they bore her up: which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, and sweet Ophelia floated down the river past black stones until she came to an evil fisherman who was dressed in clothes that had no childhood, and beautiful Ophelia floated like an April church into his shadow, and he, the evil fisherman of our dreams, waded out into the river and captured the poor mad girl, and taking her into the deep gra**, he k**ed her with the shock of his body, and he placed her back into the river, and Laertes said, Alas, then she is drown'd! Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia.