The Chinese death had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous.
"But Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his crenellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts."
Fucking Prospero holding a rally as his countrymen and women were dying of the plague.
If only, as YG notes, Donald could read, he might have learned a useful lesson