Volta project, part 94

Overslept+bombed today’s final.  There should be a law or something against having exams at 8 a.m.  But here’s today’s sonnet:

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XCIV

  They that have power to hurt, and will do none,

  That do not do the thing they most do show,

  Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,

  Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;

  They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,

  And husband nature's riches from expense;

  They are the lords and owners of their faces,

  Others, but stewards of their excellence.

  The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,

  Though to itself, it only live and die,

  But if that flower with base infection meet,

  The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

    For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

    Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.

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The volta is the but at the beginning of line 11.  And the metaphor in this one!!  It, all on its own, makes you fall in love with metaphor all over again  J  Sonnet 95 tomorrow—