Gilbert of Hoyland on the Song of Songs

Likewise in the Canticle we read: 'I have drunk my wine with my milk.’ There too the breasts of the bride are likened to clusters of grapes. Good is the cluster pressed in the winepress of the cross, that the wine of his Passion, full of gall and vinegar, may be sweetened for us to drink like milk, and that his wounds may be transformed into breasts. For one who contemplates, his wounds are breasts; for one on his daily rounds, they are wine; for one who meditates, they are sweet fruit; for one who imitates him, they are somewhat bitter. In his breasts, by foretasting, we savor some knowledge of things to come; in his clusters, by a kind of inebriation, we drug the uprisings of the flesh. In his breasts, we are engrafted upon him unto life; in his clusters, we are buried with Christ unto death. For us his wounds are breasts, as long as through the merit of the Lord's Passion and his gift of grace, we live in hope of everlasting blessings; for us his wounds are clusters, as long as through zeal for imitating his Passion, we separate our spirit from the rebellious feelings of the flesh. Through his breasts, we are in part reformed into what we shall be …

“They constrain overgrown and flabby breasts with brassieres, artfully remedying the shortcomings of nature. Beautiful indeed are breasts which are slightly prominent and are moderately distended; neither raised too much nor level with the bosom, as if pressed back but not pressed down, gently restrained but not hanging loose”

Gilbert of Hoyland, 12th century