Stan and Julie pushed through the congestion outside the entrance of the court. A dizzying confusion of elbows and backs and sweating, eager faces surrounded them. Stan squeezed through the seething mass of people and, holding tightly to his hand, Julie followed. For the tenth--or hundredth--time, she was sorry that she had come. But it was too late to turn back now. Stan showed his tickets to the guard at the door, and they were ushered politely inside where a uniformed woman with a military bearing guided them to their seats. "Your ID cards, please," the young woman said. Julie was startled by the request, and alarmed. A confiscated ID card meant trouble--police trouble! "Why?" she asked, nervously, "What did we do?" Stan smiled knowingly. "It's just a formality," he assured her. "They give it back to you when you leave." He handed the usher his card. "And yours, miss?" Hesitantly, Julie took out her wallet. A cold premonition urged her to stop, to leave now, before it was too late. Then she saw Stan's amused eyes grinning at her and she reminded herself that it was already too late for her to leave. She gave the girl her ID card. The usher smiled mechanically. She handed them each a program and hurried away up the aisle. "Don't worry, honey," Stan said, "you'll get it back." He held his program up for her to admire. "Pretty snazzy, huh?" Julie nodded half-heartedly and silently leafed through her own program. It was a four page souvenir booklet. On the first page, or front cover, was the seal of justice with a perfectly balanced scale and a few words of Latin. Above the seal, NIGHT COURT OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK was embossed in black on the slick yellow paper, and below it, the legend "Judge not, that ye be not judged". Beneath the seal, in red italics, was the inscription: "_For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again._--Matthew, 7:2." The page was set up attractively but, Julie thought, the quotations seemed inappropriate. What was the purpose of the court, if not to judge? "I still can't figure it out," Stan said, as if he had read her thoughts. He reached over and tapped Julie's program with his finger. "This is the third time I've been here, and you can believe me, honey, they both judge and mete out justice in this place!" He grinned at her. "This 'judge not' business doesn't make sense!" Julie said nothing. There was nothing to say. The room was rapidly filling up now, and she watched the people slowly filing in. She was fascinated by the looks of anticipatory pleasure in their faces, the whole place tingled with barely repressed excitement.