Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.
A young man married is a man that's marred.
This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me.
Take pains. Be perfect.
There is no love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's commendation with woman than report of valor.