Three layers in series, and the softest one decides
Everything you sit on passes through the same stack. Foam on top, webbing or springs under it, a timber rail at the bottom. They are in series, which means the load goes through all three and the softest one governs the result. So a sag is never simply "the foam has gone" — it is whichever layer has lost its stiffness, and the three feel completely different under a palm.
Press the seat with the flat of your hand, hard. If you go down a long way and stop on something hard and unyielding, you are touching the rail: the webbing has gone. If it goes down and comes back with a slow springy resistance, the support is intact and it is the foam that has softened. If one place sinks and fifty millimetres to the side is firm, it is a local failure in the webbing, not a general ageing. That single press separates three different jobs, and it costs nothing.
Then the economics, which are the reason this page exists. Webbing is a few pounds of elastic band and a staple gun; foam is the most expensive part of the sofa, and replacing it means stripping the cover. And webbing fails in a chain: one band carries the load, breaks, and the two either side of it now carry half again as much — so they are next. Repair it while it is one band and it is an afternoon. Repair it at five and you are re-webbing the whole seat.
Three faults, three presses
Bottoming out onto the rail is the webbing, and it is the cheap one. Turn the sofa over, open the dust cover underneath — stapled on most sofas, zipped on some — pull the broken band out and prise out every old staple, because a stray staple will cut the new band. Fit the new band in the same direction as its neighbours, stretch it with a webbing stretcher until it rings when you tap it, and staple it in a zig-zag of at least three staples per end. Where bands cross, interlace them rather than laying one flat on another; parallel bands all carry load in one direction and sag as a set.
Soft, springy, and slow to come back is the foam. The test is a squeeze and a clock: press a cushion to half its thickness, let go, and see whether it returns to ninety per cent within ten seconds. If it stays squashed, the cells have collapsed and no amount of turning the cushion will bring it back. Buy high-density foam — 35 kg/m³ rather than the 25 that failed — cut it five millimetres oversize, and photograph the old one's shape before you cut, because seat foams are usually tapered and wrapped in a bonded wadding.
The whole thing rocks when you press one arm is the frame, not the seat. Lean on one front corner and watch the opposite rear corner: if it lifts, a joint has opened. Most frames are stapled and glued blocks, and the repair is to clean the old glue out, glue and clamp, and add a screw or a corner brace across the joint. Do this before re-webbing anything, because a frame that moves will pull the new staples straight out.