The speaker is saying goodbye, fully convinced the person he loves is simply too valuable for him to keep. He frames the whole relationship like a failed legal arrangement, using words like “charter,” “bonds,” and “patent” to suggest that love was a grant that could be revoked. This strangely formal, businesslike language masks a deep sense of personal unworthiness. He reasons that the beloved only gave themselves because they didn’t yet recognize their own high worth, or because they mistook the speaker for someone better. Now, with clearer vision, they are taking that great gift back. There’s no anger in this farewell, only a lucid, tender sadness. The mood crystallizes in the final couplet: loving this person felt like a dream in which you’re a king, but waking life brings the stark truth that it was never real—just a flattering illusion. The speaker accepts this with quiet, aching grace.
Sonnet 87: Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing — Summary
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate, The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thy self thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgement making. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.