It’s easy enough to find evidence that he didn’t like the Elizabethan chicks who liked to partake —
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
[Sonnet 130]
It’s easy enough to find evidence that he didn’t like the Elizabethan chicks who liked to partake —
He could have said as much so more plainly and simply:
All ye ladies faire,
Take note1 —beware!
Any whom doth partake,
My love shalt forsake!
Or, a more ‘modern’ version, even though I just wrote that...
Rooty-toot-toot, we’re the boys of The Institute;
We don’t drink; we don’t smoke; we don’t chew,
And we don’t pitch woo to the girls who do!
(As taught to me by my apostate Mormon father some 50+ years ago.)