William Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure (c. 1603) takes place in a series of enclosed spaces, from Vienna with its surrounding wall designating “the suburbs” from “the city,” to the friar’s cell, “the cloister” (1.2.154), “the prison” (2.3.5), “the moated grange” (3.1.254), and the various rooms inside the palace and court. The play hinges on secrets and attempts to legislate private life for the public good. Whether it is claustrophobic or claustrophilic, this play hems in its characters, both spatially and psychologically, containing them and forcing them to make impossible decisions—decisions about the female body, and more precisely, the ability of that body to remain enclosed. At the thematic and spatial center of the play is a space that is never actually staged, Angelo’s “garden circummured with brick” (4.1.25). Though there are no other spatial indicators in this relentlessly city-located play where there might be room for an ecofeminist reading, I contend that the enclosed garden of Measure for Measure, in which the offstage bed trick (the only sex in a sex-obsessed play) occurs, is the key to unlocking the secrets of the play’s obsession with enclosed female bodies. This garden is, I argue, a version of the hortus conclusus, a version supposed to contain the one female body in the play that desires to remain perpetually contained.