Roxana, The Fortunate Mistress by Daniel Defoe

I lived in this gay sort of retirement almost three years, in which time no amour of such a kind, sure, was ever carried up so high. The Prince knew no bounds to his munificence; he could give me nothing, either for my wearing or using, or eating or drinking, more than he had done from the beginning.

His presents were after that in gold, and very frequent and large--often a hundred pistoles, never less than fifty at a time--and I must do myself the justice that I seemed rather backward to receive than craving and encroaching. Not that I had not an avaricious temper, nor was it that I did not foresee that this was my harvest in which I was to gather up and that it would not last long, but it was that really his bounty always anticipated my expectations and even my wishes, and he gave me money so fast that he rather poured it in upon me than left me room to ask it, so that before I could spend fifty pistoles I had always a hundred to make it up.