Jesus beams golden light from his solar plexus into Eric's root chakra.

[…] euery one a Furies shape assumes, Befog’d and clouded with my hel-hatch’d fumes.

By one o'clock the place was choc-a-bloc. […] The restaurant was packed, and the promenade between the two main courts and the subsidiary courts was thronged with healthy-looking youngish people, drawn to the Mecca of tennis from all parts of the country.

He's a shrewd businessman: there's no green in his eye.