The origin of the word “kestrel” is somewhat uncertain. By some it is derived from “coystril,” a knave or peasant, from being the hawk formerly used by persons of inferior rank, as we learn from Dame Juliana Berners, in her “Boke of St. Albans.” This opinion is strengthened by the reading “coystril,” in Twelfth Night (Act i. Sc. 3), and “coistrel,” in Pericles (Act iv. Sc. 6). A different spelling again occurs in “The Gentleman’s Recreation,” by Ric. Blome (folio, London, 1686), where the word is written “castrell.”
THE SPARROWHAWK.
The sparrowhawk is only mentioned once by Shakespeare, and the passage is one which might be very easily overlooked by any one not conversant with the language of falconry. In the Merry Wives of Windsor, Mrs. Ford addresses Falstaff’s page with—
“How now, my eyas-musket?”
“Musket”[54] was the name given by the falconers of old
to the male sparrowhawk; “eyas” or “eyess,” as before explained, signifying a nestling, or young bird from the eyrie or nest. In the above speech, Mrs. Ford probably intended to imply no more than we should now-a-days mean by the expression “a perky little fellow.”
HAWK AND HERNSHAW.
The words of Hamlet with reference to a hawk must be familiar to all readers of Shakespeare, the more so, possibly, because the passage in question appears to have puzzled many commentators:—
“I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.”
Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 2.
The explanation is simple enough. The last word should be “hernshaw,” the old name for the heron. It is not every one who knows a hawk from a heron when he sees it, although it is scarcely possible to conceive two birds more unlike in appearance. Hamlet’s statement, then, is simply to the effect that he only feigned madness when it suited his purpose; at other times he could even outwit the many, and see a distinction where they, from ignorance, would fail.