Shakespeare’s speaker begins by ticking off the things people usually boast about: high birth, skill, money, strength, trendy clothes, hawks, hounds, and horses. Each person, he says, has a pet joy that feels supreme. But he sweeps all those aside as irrelevant—they don’t measure up to the one ‘general best’ he has found. That best is his beloved’s love. He describes it as better than pedigree, richer than wealth, more delightful than sports or fashion. Having this love makes him feel prouder than anyone else. Yet the closing couplet darkens the mood. He admits that his entire happiness hangs on one person; if that love were withdrawn, he would be utterly wrecked. The poem shifts from a boastful, almost arrogant dismissal of worldly values to a trembling awareness of how fragile his contentment really is. It’s a celebration of love’s unmatched worth, but shadowed by the terror of losing it.
Sonnet 91: Some glory in their birth, some in their skill — Summary
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, Some in their wealth, some in their body's force, Some in their garments though new-fangled ill; Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: But these particulars are not my measure, All these I better in one general best. Thy love is better than high birth to me, Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' costs, Of more delight than hawks and horses be; And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take All this away, and me most wretchcd make.