Volta project, day 13

Directed study Saturday.  Spent the afternoon in a three-and-a-half hour class.

 Today’s sonnet:

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XIII

  O! that you were your self; but, love you are

  No longer yours, than you your self here live:

  Against this coming end you should prepare,

  And your sweet semblance to some other give:

  So should that beauty which you hold in lease

  Find no determination; then you were

  Yourself again, after yourself's decease,

  When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.

  Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,

  Which husbandry in honour might uphold,

  Against the stormy gusts of winter's day

  And barren rage of death's eternal cold?

    O! none but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,

    You had a father: let your son say so.

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The third line reminds me of street preachers  J  The volta is the but in line 13?