The poet accuses the flowers of stealing the beloved's beauty and fragrance, in playful retaliation for their theft.
Puns on sweetness (scent/flavor) and the beloved's character. Shakespeare layers sensory pleasure with moral perfection.
Sonnet 99 treats flowers as serial beauty-thieves, each stealing a different attribute from the beloved. The violet steals scent from the beloved's breath, the lily steals the color of their hand, buds of marjoram steal their hair, and roses steal their cheeks' complexion. This hyperbolic accusation paradoxically celebrates the beloved by making them the source of all natural beauty. The conceit suggests the beloved is nature's original, and flowers are mere counterfeits—a supreme compliment disguised as mock complaint.
The volta introduces violent punishment: one flower receives 'a vengeful canker' that eats it 'up to death.' This dark turn reveals the poet's jealousy beneath the playfulness—flowers that steal the beloved's beauty deserve to rot. The move from wit to violence is characteristic of Shakespeare's sonnets, where love and aggression become intertwined. The final couplet fragment leaves the accusation incomplete, suggesting endless vigilance.
Like accusing a famous influencer's makeup artist of stealing their glow, when really the artist is just highlighting what's already there. The joke is in the impossible logic: the flowers are so faithful in their copying that they must have had the original nearby to steal from.